So Close
by The Good Girl
Summary: The High King of Narnia could conquer many things...love just didn't happen to be one of them. After all, he was Peter the Magnificent, not Peter the Romantic. Peter/OC
1. Dreams

The earth danced below her feet and she relished in the warmth of the summer greens, slipping in between her toes and caressin

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot & all the character's of Bailetha!! Please don't sue me. Eep.

A/N: My first Narnia fic!! I was inspired by the Caspian movie, which I've already seen twice in theatres. Mwhahaha.I hope you enjoy. Constructive criticism is most appreciated.

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The earth danced below her feet and she relished in the warmth of the summer greens, slipping in between her toes and caressing the rough flesh that was the bottom of her foot. She loved this escape, this wonder when she could for a few moments leave behind the work of the day, the labor that came entitled with being a servant girl. The night sky glittered above her, and she wished for a moment that a cool wind could just pick her up and carry her somewhere else. Ever since she was a child she had heard stories of the beauties and glories of far away lands, and she desperately wished to visit these places. Generation after generation passed down tale after tale of the glories of a kingdom called Narnia, but she could barely believe the myths anymore. Having spent the last eighteen years of her life in the small and embittered kingdom of Bailetha, a place as magical as Narnia just felt like a cruel joke.

No. Narnia didn't exist, and even if it did there was no way a poor and dirty servant girl in the palace of the King and Queen of Bailetha would ever get to enjoy its' riches and natural jewels of the earth. So for now, Nell Crewe would just enjoy the calm of the night, the few minutes when she could just be at peace with herself, when she wasn't being ordered about.

Nell found refuge with the summer night, and laid her body on the warm grass, spreading out unapologetically. Her long dark tresses, falling to her elbows when not tied back in a gruelingly tight braid, were let loose and spread about her. She stared up at the twinkling skies, wondering desperately in her heart if that same night sky stretched far out to another kingdom, with another pair of eyes staring below its blanket of darkness and beauty.

She was not meant for this kingdom—this servanthood. Nell knew in her heart she would break out of the chains of Bailetha, even if it killed her.

Nursing a small smile on her full lips, Nell closed her eyes and dreamed the ache of hard labor away that pressed throughout her body. For a few minutes she could disappear; for a few moments Nell could forget and surrender to her dreams.

Peter Pevensie felt the moist dew seep into the back of his embroidered tunic, but he paid no mind to the wetness that was no doubt staining his shirt. After hours and hours of slaving over paperwork and council meetings all day, the High King finally had a chance to sneak out of Care Paravel and find refuge within the thick summer air. Lately the role of High King had been really getting to him. After all, he was only twenty one years old. Most lads his age would be fretting over their final examinations, not bearing the responsibility of an entire kingdom and the lives of every resident of Narnia. Sometimes, it just got to be a bit too heavy, no matter how broad Peter's shoulders had gotten from all the sword fighting and battles he'd been in over the years.

Sometimes, when Peter was alone much like he was tonight, his mind would drift to the world he and his siblings had come from. No way did he ever wish he could switch back to the way the Pevensie children used to live, but the thought of returning always nagged him in the stomach. He never wanted to leave, he was not ready to leave, and yet somehow he doubted their residence in Narnia was permanent. He wished Aslan was around to help him sort out his complex and rather irritating emotions, but Peter hadn't seen the powerful lion since almost five years ago when he'd been crowned High King.

Sighing, Peter sat up and ran his fingers through his hair, making his golden tresses stand even more on end than usual. He glanced back to the palace, and felt a warm grin placed on his face. Care Paravel had been his home for awhile, and he loved every second of it. Yet he just felt so thoroughly exhausted all the time and hated it. It was getting harder and harder to hide his solemn moods from his siblings; Susan had a wicked keen eye when it came to her elder brother.

Yet Peter had so much to be thankful for, and truly blamed his dark moods on just growing up and experiencing maturities far beyond his age. Having killed men in battle, not only Peter but Edmund and Susan too had lost their innocence long ago. Lucy seemed to be the only one with any ounce of purity left, and even she was growing older and wiser each day. She was no longer a child; while still young at age thirteen, she was much wiser beyond her years.

Peter stood up slowly, reluctant to leave the silent refuge of the night, and wiped off the backs of his trousers, heading back to the palace. It was no help to his exhaustion, these late nights under the glistening sky. He tried desperately to shake off the bouts of loneliness weighing heavily on his heart, but it was useless. Why did he feel so lonely all the time? He was constantly in the company of his siblings, of his council, and of his subjects.

And yet while continuously in the midst of a large crowd, the High King of Narnia found himself lonelier than he had ever been in the entirety of his life.

"Nell, quit yer _bloody_ day-dreamin' and hand me that chicken!"

Nell snapped out of her momentary gaze and cringed when she saw the look on Archlen's face. Archlen was a rough and cruel man, the head of the servants in the kitchens and stables. He had never taken a liking to Nell, and while she had been initially intimidated by him, Nell had learned over the years to just tune him out completely. Though this method often resulted in her zoning out for several minutes at a time, which severely aggravated Archlen.

Pushing wisps of curls that fell into her face, coming loose from her braid, Nell passed Archlen the dead and plucked chicken. During the week Nell worked in the kitchens in the morning and at night, and in the afternoon in the stables. On the weekends she was on palace duties, cleaning the many rooms of the Bailetha palace, keeping the fires alive, such mundane chores made up her life.

Out of all her chores, Nell loved working the stables in the afternoon the best. Archlen was usually pre-occupied with preparing the palace dinner, and Nell could be left alone with the horses of Bailetha. They were utter beauties, strong and tame yet with a glint of wildness in their eyes. She loved the freedom within their steps, the way they moved across open pastures and through the woods in a flash. She longed to be carried off on one of them, off far away. To a place where no one knew her, where she could forget all about Bailetha and how each day in this Godforesaken kingdom she felt more and more like nothing, nothing but the dirt beneath each noblemen's boot. _One day_, she vowed to herself. _Brace yourself Nell. Be strong. One day you'll forget all about this place. _

It was a struggle every day to just find worth in herself, and Nell hated Bailetha for that. She had no family here, no relations, not one connection to anything in this decrepit village. She had been on her own for as long as she lived, and couldn't remember ever wearing anything besides torn and tattered work dresses, boots that were too tight and suffocated her feet; she couldn't even remember the last time she washed her hair, or ate until she was full. She was skinny and dirty, not healthy in the least bit. She looked more like an awkward boy than a woman of eighteen. The only thing in her appearance that hinted at her age was her long hair and face; while her body was shrunken from lack of food and too much work, her hair was thick and bountiful, and though her face was sallow from lack of nutrition, she was not a monster.

Though every day she felt like it. A rat monster of some sort that was not worth anything, and her plain features only added to that factor.

Nell stared down at her bloody and dirty hands from just having plucked every single chicken feather out of the animal, and desperately craved a warm bath. But the craving was only an instant, for there was still work to be done before she could retreat to her duties in the stables. Nell grabbed the next chicken to de-pluck before Archlen could yell at her again.

Only an hour longer, and once again she could try and escape from the shit hole that was her life.

The last thing Peter wanted to do was leave the warmth of his feathered down sheets and bedding, but the sunlight seemed to think there was more to the day than snoozing it away. Screwing up his eyes against the sunlight, Peter let out a large yawn and stretched his lanky body along the length of his canopied bed. Shirtless, sleeping only in a pair of cotton night trousers, Peter slowly crawled out of bed, making his way slowly across his bedchamber and over to his large master window. Pulling back the curtains, he breathed in the scent of the new day and was once again mystified by the beauty that was Narnia. He watched the ocean stretch for miles and had a bizarre urge to fling himself in the center of the sea, surrendering completely to the depths of its beauty.

But, as always, there were more important matters to attend to as High King, than standing half-naked, day dreaming about deep sea swimming. Today, Peter reluctantly remembered, was a social luncheon between the court of Care Paravel and the kingdom of Elwyna, the closest neighboring kingdom to Narnia. The luncheon had been scheduled months ago, a rather boring (in Peter's opinion) tradition that had been going on for the past five years. It was more or less just a luncheon to keep peace with the two kingdoms and to keep up on any current matters and politics. While Peter found it useless to waste half a day on gossiping with another kingdom when all matters of politics could be easily handled by letter, Susan had insisted it was very important to keep good relations with your neighbors.

"You never know when you might need your allies Peter," Susan had said pointedly five years ago, when a much more immature Peter had rolled his eyes at the luncheon proposition. Over the years Peter had grown used to the luncheons. They usually happened once a month with alternating kingdoms. Elwyna was a lovely kingdom, and Narnia and Elwyna's relationship was a solid and good one. Truth be told, Peter hated the luncheons for a much pettier reason. He knew the King and Queen of Elwyna had a nineteen year old daughter, and they were eager for an allied marriage to occur between Princess Alba and the High King of Narnia. Ever since he was crowed at sixteen, the King and Queen of Elwyna had been desperately trying to get Peter to court Princess Alba.

Peter was not in the interest of marriage at all—if he had it his way, he'd remain a bachelor his whole life. He was _not_ a romantic, and while he didn't mind the occasional dance with a pretty maiden, or even the occasional snog, dating was just not high on his list of priorities. Truth be told, he had just not found his match yet. The women in the court of all the surrounding kingdoms were all the same; young, flighty maidens who all looked at Peter as eye-candy. If he was to settle down he wanted it to be with a girl who challenged him, who was intelligent and had opinions, and who could hold a conversation for more than ten minutes. After all that he and his siblings had been through, he could just not imagine settling down with a two-dimensional girl.

Sighing and aggravated at his jumbled thoughts, Peter turned from the window and the sea and went to dress. The sooner the luncheon began, the sooner it would all be over.

"Susan, tell me again why these little luncheons are just _so _important for Narnia?"

Susan looked at her older brother with a small smile on her lips as she continued to wave and smile at their guests which were beginning to file into the dining room. The luncheon was held in one of the smaller dining rooms, a circular room that was decorated beautifully by Susan and Lucy.

"Peter, must I tell you again the importance of good rela—"

"Good relationships, I know," Peter grumbled, offering a brilliant smile to a duke and his lady that had just entered arm in arm. "It's just, if Princess Alba does not stop staring at me, I think my hair is going to fall out."

Susan laughed as Peter felt a hand clap down on his shoulder. The other Pevensie boy had come between his siblings. At eighteen, Edmund stood almost as tall as his brother, but not quite. He had definitely grown into his dark looks, and was quite popular among the ladies of the royal courts.

"You know Pete, I don't know what you have against Princess Alba," Edmund said good-naturedly, offering the Princess a sly smile to which she returned, though her eyes flicked automatically to Peter. It was obvious she was not listening to the young maiden who was chatting excitedly in her left ear. "She's incredibly good-looking. You would look good together."

Peter rolled his eyes. "It's not her looks," Peter muttered, glancing quickly at the Princess. And that was true. On the contrary, Alba was magnificently beautiful, and was known in the lands for her captivating beauty. With her long, golden mane and vibrant emerald eyes, she was all but bewitching. And yet when Peter looked at her, his heart didn't race uncontrollably, he didn't even feel a mild flutter in his belly. If anything, he was merely sexually attracted to what was her outer shell, but she was just another woman to him. He had tried countless times to make conversation with her, but she was only interested in gossiping and herself.

"It's just," Peter continued, turning swiftly away from Alba before she got the wrong idea of his stare. "The girl can't hold a conversation for more than a few minutes. And somehow, _miraculously_, the conversation always turns back to her. She doesn't even have one clue about what the state of her kingdom is, and I don't even think she has any inkling of what politics are at all."

Edmund rolled his eyes, pushing up the sleeves of his emerald tunic. He scratched his head, giving Alba another glance and letting out a low whistle. "You're a fool mate," he said, shaking his head. "If I were you, I'd milk the attention for all it's worth. Hell, what could be so bad about waking up to next to _that _every morning? You are insane to let that slip by."

Peter rolled his eyes as Susan gave Edmund a little nudge in the shoulder. "You know Ed, there's more to a woman than what meets the eye." Edmund gave a little chuckle, moving to a table laden with treats and where he began chatting it up with some of his noblemen friends.

Susan turned to her older brother and give him a warm grin. "I'm sorry you have to deal with the pestering of King Larce and Queen Nibora, but I truly believe these luncheons are worth it." Pete gave a little grunt and Susan squeezed his arm affectionately. "And if it's worth anything, _I _don't think you're crazy for not being interested in Princess Alba. She is quite a flake indeed." Peter laughed lightly at his sister's blunt words and Susan saddled off to entertain the guests before the main course was served.

Peter was seriously contemplating sneaking off to his bedroom or out to his cove by the sea when he caught sight of King Larce and Queen Nibora approaching him, determination set in their glistening eyes. Peter inwardly groaned, but he felt a twinge of guilt. They were truly lovely people and incredible leaders, and Peter sort of looked to them as mentors in a sense, but not entirely. Though Peter may have only been a year over twenty, and though he often dreaded the mundane aspects of social gatherings (which, he had to admit, was a bit immature), he was a much finer king than men double his age. His loyalty and justice was evident in every move he made as the High King, and the subjects of Narnia looked up to him immensely.

But that still did not make the current predicament any better. He offered the elder king and queen a radiant grin, sincerely delighted to see them, though a pit of dread was forming in his stomach for he knew the true reasons behind their eagerness to talk to him.

"Your highnesses," Peter said in a rich voice, bowing deeply and sweeping his arm forward in a most regal fashion. "I hope to find you both in good health?"

King Larce offered a bow to Peter as Queen Nibora held out her hand royally. After the customary introductions and salutations were through, Larce and Nibora cut right to the chase, taking Peter a bit by surprise. Usually it wasn't until halfway through poached quail that Larce and Nibora began to the marriage attack.

"King Peter!" King Larce said jovially. He was a rather large man, sporting a brilliant gray beard and a jolly laugh never far from his lips. "You are at such a ripe age nowadays. What fun I would have had at your age had I possessed your fine looks!"

Peter grinned lazily, quite flattered yet at the same time firmly on guard. He would not succumb to their compliments and he would _not _court Princess Alba, no matter how fond he was of her parents. "Your highness, I am sure you were quite the popular one," Peter said friendly, and Queen Nibora offered a little scoff.

"Oh please darling," she said, giving her husband a twinkling glance. "You were always stumbling over your words in my presence! Why, I don't think you even looked me in the eye until a week after we were married."

"Ah yes," King Larce said, reeling in the bait his wife had just fed him. Peter had to admit, they were pretty skillful schemers. "Young marriage, those were the best years of my life. We were about Peter's age, weren't we my lovely?"

Peter almost let out his groan this time.

"Yes, indeed we were," said Nibora in a smooth voice. "Perhaps even younger. Your highness, have you considered marriage at all since you've been crowned High King of Narnia?"

"It's something I have not had time to ponder," Peter said politely. He tried to add a bit of an edge to his voice, as if to close the matter, but Larce wasn't having any of it.

"Your highness, if you don't mind my boldness," Larce began, glancing over at his daughter who was dramatically laughing and flicking her hair, grabbing every young man's attention in the room besides Peter's. "But I daresay you cannot disagree that my daughter Princess Alba is quite beautiful?"

Peter had to choose his words carefully. He could not deny Alba's beauty, for that would be like denying the fact that the sky was blue. "Princess Alba is quite beautiful indeed," Peter began. "I just don't—"

"She would make a fine wife, I presume!" King Larce said, laughing hopefully. "My kind sir, have you ever considered—"

"PETER!"

King Larce was cut off abruptly as Lucy came barreling toward the trio, causing Peter to look at his sister in alarm. It was not like Lucy to disrupt Peter's conversations, especially with a king of an alliance. And yet he could not help but feel a bit saved.

"Lucy, what is it?" Peter asked seriously. "Is something wrong?"

Lucy curtsied gracefully to Larce and Nibora, pushing her brown hair behind her ears. "Pardon me, your highnesses, but I must speak to my brother urgently. I promise I'll return him in a flash."

"Of course, of course! We'll be here all afternoon!" King Larce said happily, taking another goblet of wine for his wife and himself, and the two no doubt began discussing other schemes to get their daughter and Peter married.

Once Lucy had led Peter to the hall outside the room, Peter took Lucy by the shoulders. "Lu, what is it?"

Lucy's eyes were alive with something mischievous and she offered him a small grin. "You looked as if you were about to pass out talking to Larce and Nibora," she said happily, so as not be overheard. "I thought you could use a bit of an alleviation."

Peter had never loved his sister more. He smiled down at Lucy, giving her hair a tousle much to her protests. "Lu, you are completely brilliant. If I ever deny you opinions on our battle strategies, you have my permission to kick me squarely in the shin."

Lucy laughed, sliding down to the floor and staring up at the ceiling. There was something dark in her usually bright eyes, and Peter could help but not notice his sister looking slightly perturbed. He slid down beside her, their shoulders touching, though Lucy's shoulder only came up to right above Peter's elbow.

"Do you think we'll see him again?" Lucy asked softly. Peter didn't have to ask who Lucy was talking about it. It was a question that lingered in his mind every day, and one that did not have an answer. He felt the sadness and loneliness in Lucy's heart, and it weighed against him heavily. He hated seeing his sister this way. That was one of Peter's weaknesses. No matter what the true reason was, whenever one of his siblings or someone he loved dearly hurt, he automatically felt as if it was his fault and it ate away at him.

He glanced down at his young sister and sighed raggedly. "I dunno Lu. That's something I think about every day, and no matter how I look about it, I can't seem to find an answer."

"I just didn't think we'd be totally alone all these years, you know?" Lucy said quietly. Peter could her the conflict in her voice. She loved Aslan more than anything and would never wish to doubt him, and yet she could not help but feel abandoned. "I haven't seen him since our first night in Care Paravel. But I know he's here, I know he's always here. I don't need to see him to believe it."

Peter looked down at the young queen, draping an arm around her small shoulders. He truly admired Lucy; there had been many times where she was much braver than himself, and all three elder Pevensie children combined. He hated seeing her blue like this.

"I know he'll come back Lucy," Peter said warmly, trying to put some reassurance back in her eyes. Though it was quite hard when Peter wasn't even sure himself. "He's Aslan. You know he works in mysterious ways."

Lucy smiled up at Peter, a bit of laughter in her eyes. "Much like Larce and Nibora!" Peter rolled his eyes as Lucy giggled. "They really want you to like their daughter, don't they?"

Peter leaned his head against the wall. "Yes, and unfortunately they can't seem to grasp the fact that I am just not interested."

Lucy furrowed her brows in contemplation, hugging her knees. "I don't think you need a girlfriend Peter. I think Edmund looks silly going out with a different girl each weekend. It gives the impression he's a flake."

Peter laughed, seeing Lucy's point. But Edmund didn't seem to give a rat's tail about what people thought about him and his weekend festivities, and Peter had to admire that. "I don't think I need a girlfriend either. Not when I already have my two amazing sisters in my life."

That seemed to cheer Lucy up immensely. Just then, the large chamber door swung open and a rather angry and annoyed Susan emerged from the dining room, looking down at her siblings with a scold most evident on her usually gentle features.

"What exactly do you think you two are doing!" She whispered in a hushed voice, the anger seeping through every syllable. "You left me alone in there with Ed to host, and he hasn't even left the treat table!"

Peter and Lucy looked at each other and cracked a grin, deciding it was best to come to Susan's aid and try and enjoy the rest of the luncheon. Though Peter had a inkling that it would be hard to enjoy a lunch where he spent the entire time dodging a king and queen.

Nell didn't mind the smell of the stables. Growing up in filth, she had developed a kind of immunity in her nostrils. She could easily bare the stench of horses and manure mixed with stale straw if it meant she didn't have to deal with Archlen or any of the other crabby servants and supervisors. At least in the stables, the horses didn't look at her like she was a bug that desperately needed to be exterminated.

Walking down the row of horses, she carried a pale of old apples and carrots from the kitchens that she was feeding to each of the strong animals. They seemed to devour the food in seconds, and Nell wished she had something fresh to give them, something more than just a few puny veggies. Smiling at each horse, Nell finished feeding them and quickly fetched a large round comb. This was her favorite part; combing the horses' beautiful coats. Their shining browns, whites, blacks and grays glistened from the peeping ray's of sunlight from the afternoon, and as Nell led each horse one by one to the center of the stable, she had to try and not fling herself a top of one and disappear from Bailetha forever.

Nell finally reached her favorite horse, Kiche. Kiche was more pony than actual horse; she was a tiny thing, weak in the legs but beautiful all the same. She had a rich brown coat, that glistened and no doubt caused the other horses envy. While Kiche was a puny and scrawny little thing, her coat was brighter and shinier than any of the other horses. Nell had a soft spot for Kiche; no one in the palace ever rode or even paid mind to Kiche, and for a while when Nell first started working in the stables, she wondered why Kiche was even kept around at all. Nell vowed that if one day she had the courage to escape Bailetha, she would use Kiche as her runaway steed.

Though she hoped Kiche wouldn't collapse with the weight of Nell on top of her. As Nell led Kiche to the center of the stable, she soothingly stroked the horses' mane. Kiche whinnied softly, and Nell wished it was possible for horses to smile.

"Hello Kiche," Nell muttered softly. Taking the comb into her right hand, Nell began to softly stroke Kiche's magnificent coat. She began to wonder if Kiche could indeed hold the weight of herself. Nell wasn't very heavy; she was underweight for her height of five-five. She was sure she couldn't have weighed more than someone a little older than a child. Nell looked at Kiche's skinny legs, doubting the horse could hold herself. Glancing back at the doorway of the stables, Nell bit her lip. Surely she could just climb on for a swift second, just to see if Kiche was strong enough to hold her. If the horse showed any signs of struggle, Nell would jump off in an instant.

Curiosity always got the better of Nell, which often led her into trouble, though at this particular moment she tried to forget that last bit. Nell knew how to ride a horse; everyone in Bailetha knew how to ride a horse. She'd been taught how to ride long ago, so she could travel to small villages and markets to pick of necessities for the kitchen and palace. She was a good rider too, mainly because Nell was so light and could easily mold her body close to the horses' back, riding at speeds far faster than any of the noblemen or soldiers could.

"I know you're strong Kiche," Nell told the horse soothingly, placing the comb on the ground. "You've just been treated your whole life like you are nothing but weak, but I know you are strong. I don't think you're a pony." Nell left the horse for a second, to grab a spare saddle. After situating the saddle on Kiche's back, frowning when it looked a little too floppy and big, Nell bit her lip.

"Alright, let's just see, okay?" Carefully and strategically, Nell hoisted herself slowly on Kiche's back and for an instant screwed her eyes up tight, expecting the animal to collapse on the ground. Several moments passed, and when nothing happened, Nell's eyes flew open excitedly. She was still sitting atop of Kiche, and Kiche was still standing, though she did begin to fidget a bit, probably since Kiche had never had the weight of someone on her back.

"See, Kiche!" Nell whispered excitedly. "I knew it." Nell instructed the horse to walk around the open center of the stable a few times, and was delighted when Kiche responded to her leads. Nell reluctantly slipped off the small horses' back, giving the animal a small smile as she led Kiche to her stable booth.

Sighing, she closed Kiche's door and stroked her back. "One day, I promise Kiche. I promise."

Though Nell whispered reassuringly into Kiche's ear, there was a pressing feeling deep in her heart that she was not going to be leaving Bailetha for a long, long time.

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Authors Note: Hey guys!! So that's the first chapter. I know there wasn't much action, but I'm just trying to set up the character's daily lives. Hope you enjoyed. Reviews are extremely appreciated. )


	2. Night Ride

**Disclaimer: **Once again, I own nothing!!

**Author Note: **Thank you so much for the lovely reviews and critiques. They are much appreciated!! :) I hope you all like this chapter. I'm sorry the story's moving a bit slow, but I really want to take my time with this and develop both Nell and Peter. I want everything to have substance. Next chapter, Nell FINALLY meets the kings and queens of Narnia!! Wootw00t.

Keep on reviewing people!! If I get a more reviews, I'll give shout-outs next chapter. Let me know what you think of this! It's not quite what I wanted, but it'll have to do. Alright, enjoy!

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"Nell, git a move on, will you, you stupid bloody girl," Archlen growled, snapping his kitchen towel at Nell's rump

"Nell, git a move on, will you, you stupid bloody girl," Archlen growled, snapping his kitchen towel at Nell's rump, causing Nell to wince in pain. She scuddled out the kitchen door, grumbling profanities under her breath, her arms laden with large logs and pieces of wood that she would soon place in each of the fireplaces of the great palace. It was a job that took all night, and one she severely dreaded. It usually took all night, since there were about twenty chambers and quarters in the palace that had fireplaces in them. Nell would not be getting any sleep tonight, that was for sure.

Her back aching from the weight of the logs and wood in her hands, Nell trudged up the back spiral staircase that was invisible to the royal occupants of the palace. It was an enclosed servant quarter, so as to blind the royalty from the dirty folk that slaved away their lives just to ensure the comforts of the King and Queen and their nobility. Nell had almost reached the top landing—she preferred to start from the highest floor of the castle and work her way down—when she collided full force into none other than her best friend, Tomkin Awlyn, causing her to spill the wood all around here in the dark corridor.

"Tomkin!" Nell gasped, half exasperated and half relieved to see her best friend. "Don't you have eyes anymore?"

Tomkin grinned at his friends' snippy attitude, bending down to help her gather the wood and logs and placing them gently into her frail arms. He grimaced at her bony appearance, sure that she would snap in half from the weight of the wood. He decidedly took half of her stack, hoping to alleviate a bit of the weight.

"Well it's hard to see someone who disappears every time they turn to the side," Tomkin retorted, pleased when Nell rolled her eyes. She attempted to take back half of the load that Tomkin had piled into his slightly stronger arms. He was a lanky young man of twenty, tall and gawky, with a bushel of vibrant red hair that Nell could distinctly make out in the subdued darkness. "Uh-uh, no, I'm going to help you with this."

"Don't you have your own chores to worry about?" The weight of the wood wasn't anything that serious, and Nell didn't mind the pain anymore. Like most everything, it was something she just tuned out and became numb to. "Not that I'm objecting here, don't get me wrong."

"I was only going to head back to the stables and tidy up a bit, but I reckon you are only slightly better company than a bunch of silent horses." Tomkin cringed when he felt Nell's pinch strike him directly in his arm.

"How's that for better company, eh?" Nell grinned as her grumbling friend followed out of the landing and into the cold atmosphere of the palace of Bailetha.

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"My fingers hurt!" Nell grumbled, trying to avoid the sparks and flames while still attempting to rearrange the firewood in the hearth. Tomkin and Nell were lighting the fireplace in one of the studies that they were instructed was to be used that night by an older professor visiting the king and queen. "These damn logs just refuse to look pretty."

Tomkin snorted as he picked up the remaining logs into his arms, ready to hit the next chamber and finish as soon as possible. "Nell, I don't think shards of wood are supposed to look _pretty._"

"I know," grumbled Nell, hissing as a lick of a flame found her index finger. She withdrew her hand from the flames and put the poker down beside the hearth, straightening her back and wiping her hands on her dress. Her eyes flicked over to Tomkin, who was ready to leave. He gave her a small pile of wood to carry and she raised an eyebrow. "You think I'm some delicate little creature, don't you Tomkin?"

Tomkin didn't meet Nell's eyes as he led the pair out of the room and softly closed the thick chamber door behind them. "I don't think you're _delicate. _Delicate is what ladies are. You are just too bony to be healthy."

Nell rolled her eyes. "I don't know whether to be insulted that you just called me bony and inadvertently said I was not a lady, or complimented by your concern for my health."

"I just think you should eat more," Tomkin said matter-of-factly as they made their way to the second to last room.

"Eat more _what?" _Nell asked incredulously. "It's not like I'm refusing a seven course meal here! Archlen is generous when he gives me a moldy apple. So get over it. You could use a few extra pounds yourself boy."

"Aye, shut it you," Tomkin grumbled as Nell offered him a warm smile. Nell studied her friend as they began to arrange the hearth of the king and queen's lady-in-waiting chambers. Tomkin and Nell had grown up together, both servant children in Bailetha. While Nell had been orphaned for as long as she could remember, Tomkin was the son of a servant supervisor. Mr. Awlyn was a burly man, with a kind heart but a firm stare. Nell suspected the only reason Tomkin was fed a bit better than herself was because Mr. Awlyn was so intimidating. If it hadn't been for Tomkin, Nell reckoned, she'd have gone crazy from loneliness a long, long time ago.

When the two had finished preparing the fire in the room, Nell still carried a few logs while Tomkin was empty-handed.

"Why don't you go on to the stables, I've just got to prepare that last room there," Nell said, pointing to a small door that looked as if it was going to fall off its hinges. Tomkin and Nell had finally made their way to the basement chambers. Tomkin looked wearily at the decaying door.

"I don't understand why his highness insists you prepare that fire every night," Tomkin said softly. "It seems constantly deserted."

Nell shrugged, shifting the weight of the wood. "I dunno, it's a mess in there and smells worse than Archlen's breath." She giggled despite herself, and Tomkin rolled his eyes.

"I'll wait out here for you, just hurry up, these basement corridors give me a chill in my bones," Tomkin muttered, shifting his eyes uneasily about their surroundings.

"Quit being such a baby," Nell hissed. "I'll be out in a minute. " Tomkin helped open the door for Nell, and she slipped quietly inside the musty room.

It was almost pitch black in the old room, had a sliver of the pale silvery moonlight not crept in through a tiny window close to the ceiling. Nell shivered immediately upon entering; there was mischief in the room, a sense of foreboding that she could not simply shake away no matter how hard she tried. She bit her lip as she quickly made her way to the fireplace, all but throwing the logs inside and began to set the fire.

Her edgy mood began to ease as she lit the fire and the warmth crackled delightedly before her. _Tomkin's such a baby_, she thought, grinning at her friends' eeriness, ignoring her own just a moment before.

Nell finished lighting the fire a minute later, and stood up, brushing her hands once again on her tattered work dress. Just as she was about to turn and leave the room, a muffled noise caught her eye. She paused mid-step, her entire body paralyzed. She strained her ears against the silence of the night, trying to decipher where the noise had come from. Moving closer to an old book case that was barren save for a few pitiful novels, Nell discovered the low noise was coming from behind the bookshelf.

Confused, Nell held her breath to hear more clearly. Yes, it was definitely coming from behind the bookshelf. It sounded like a low rumble, something deep and hurried.

A voice.

_A voice? _Nell furrowed her brow in confusion, trying to hear what the voice was saying, but it was almost completely in audible. Without truly weighing her actions, Nell pressed hard against the side of the bookshelf, genuinely shocked when it budged its' place. Her shock was only further lighted when she gazed at the billowing staircase before her.

_Since when did staircases exist behind bookshelves? _

Nell's breath caught in her throat as she gazed down the dark and twisted secret staircase, pausing at a standstill. There weren't many reasons for her to walk down those stone steps. For one, it was pitch black down there save for a flicker of fire in the torches on the dark stone walls. But that low voice was now a bit louder, and Nell couldn't quench the prickle of curiosity that coursed through her body. How often did you stumble across a secret stairwell with a swelling rumble swirling up?

Nell glanced back toward the door that led to where Tomkin was patiently waiting. She bit her lip, truly conflicted for the first time in her life. There were too many reasons to turn away, to walk away from the staircase and yet Nell's feet were planted where they were. There was adventure in her heart, a wisp of hope that lay before her. Opportunities rarely came her way, and when something this exciting happened it was like a lure she couldn't deny.

She could feel her heart beating. There was silence in the air, and Nell knew that descending into the dark would change her life forever. There was a deep pulse within her now, a pulse for change, a pulse for a new life, a new chapter in everything she knew. Every fiber within her was on fire.

She descended the staircase.

* * *

Maybe there really was something wrong with him.

Maybe Edmund was right. Maybe he was a fool, a Nancy boy, a blind bat.

Peter groaned aloud, running his calloused fingers through his thick blonde hair. He sat perched on his cove by the sea, enjoying the bath of moonlight that caressed his skin, as if a lover to his flesh. The luncheon had been excruciating for him, and at one point he was so close to faking food poisoning just to be able to excuse himself from the pesterings of Larce and Nibora.

He couldn't deny the fact that he was lonely, yet he did not want anything to do with Alba. That was that, Larce and Nibora would just have to deal with the facts that the High King of Narnia was perhaps the only red-blooded male in the entire kingdom that would not melt at the sight of sheer beauty.

But he simply couldn't deny the fact that he was lonely.

There was an emptiness in his core, and he hated it because he was _never _lonely. Peter was many things; he was courageous and valiant and heroic and stubborn and yes, he'd admit, a bit arrogant, but he was not _lonely. _Lonely was a sign of weakness, a sign of tender feeling in his heart, and he refused to appear tender to anyone. Because the minute he showed any sign of softness and weakness was the precise moment his enemies would strike, and Peter refused to allow any harm to the Kingdom of Narnia. There had been peace for five years, and he'd be damned if he'd a let himself slip up now, all caused by a bout of childish brooding.

Feeling a presence behind him, Peter stirred and twisted his neck to see Susan standing behind him, a small grin on her lovely features.

"Thought I'd find you here," she said, approaching the cove. Peter offered his sister a grin, half-wishing she would leave. He'd much prefer to be on his own, and Susan always had of way of knowing exactly when something was bothering her brother. It was a bit intrusive, if truth be told.

"Just thought I'd do some thinking," Peter shrugged. "Sometimes I can't stand being stuffed up in my chambers."

"I know what you mean," Susan said, leaning against the wall of the cove, letting the ocean breeze play with her raven hair. "Look, I wanted to apologize for today."

Peter furrowed his brow in confusion, quite perplexed at his sister's apology. "What for?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Susan sighed, tugging at the hem of her dress. "I just know how much you dread the luncheon, and I'm sorry I continue to press them upon you. Ultimately, as High King, it is your call. If you feel as if they are pointless, I would have to let you say no more."

Peter gave a soft chuckle, playing with a piece of lost driftwood in his hands. It was damp and cold, telling the stories of sorrow and lost adventures against Peter's rough skin. He glanced at his sister.

"I don't mind them much," Peter lied. He did not want to seem like a nagging child. He could man up and deal with the luncheons, they weren't _that _big of a deal. For goodness sake, he had seen men die before him, the least he could do was endure an hour or so of tiny fruit cakes and endless banter of his future marriage plans. "I just wish everyone would lay off my private life a bit."

Susan bit her lip, looking a bit apprehensive. "That's kind of what I wanted to come out here and talk to you about. The council has been talking about your future lately."

Peter rolled his eyes, feeling rather irritated. "What about my future exactly have they so kindly been discussing behind my back?"

Susan sighed, finally deciding to just spit it out. "They are worried about the future of Narnia. I mean, you _are_ twenty-one. And I know back in England it's a completely different story, but here people are married as young as fifteen. They are concerned about the heirs to the thro—"

"_Heirs?_" Peter exclaimed, utterly flustered. He felt his face grow a bit hot from embarrassment. "Children? My God, I am not even in the interest of marriage! Why can't they understand?"

Susan shrugged, tucking a lock of black hair behind her ear. "I dunno, Pete. But they've been on my back to, and part of me thinks you should just pick a wife and be done with it!"

Peter shook his head. "You don't mean that Susan. Look, I'll have a little talk with our council. They needn't be so concerned with our future marriage plans. We aren't going anywhere soon."

Susan smiled, nodding and feeling much better. "You're right Peter. Alright…well, I'll see you at breakfast then. Good night."

Peter gave his sister a small smile and watched her hurry back up to the castle. He let out an exasperated noise, even more upset than before Susan had visited him. This whole marriage idea was making his head swim and he felt the beginnings of a headache itch behind his temples.

Throwing a rock out into sea, Peter watched it enviously as it sank to the bottom, away from any earthly duty at all.

* * *

_I can't believe I'm doing this, I can't believe I'm doing this._

_I'm actually doing this._

Nell felt a magnetism to the noise that was slowly edging its way closer and closer to her, and even if she wanted to turn back she possibly could not. She had never felt so excited and so thrilled by a simple walk down the stairs. _How sad_, she thought dryly. _I'm excited by stone stairs._

Finally the noise was growing louder and louder until she realized that it was just not one voice, but two. Slowing down her step, Nell pressed her body against the cold wall, willing herself into invisibility. The steps had stopped. Nell could feel her pulse quicken as the voices became so close she was sure they were only mere yards away.

"I am sure this will lead to extermination."

Nell's breath caught in her throat. She felt her body erupt in goose-bumps as recognition swam through her veins. That was King Threylin, the King of Bailetha. Feeling her breath close inside of her, Nell moved deeper into the darkness about a fraction of a hair until she could see clearly the scene laid before her eyes.

King Threylin was bent over a wooden table in a room that looked more like a dungeon than anything. There were two men before him, large and frightening men, with dark hair and dark eyes that screamed evil. They were large and unruly, two men Nell had never seen before. Her eyes flicked to the serpent embroidered across their chests and had to shove her fist into her mouth to stifle her gasp. Rewlians! From the Kingdom of Rewlyn, dark enemies of Bailetha. What in the hell were they doing in the chambers of the castle, discussing matters with King Threylin? Nell was sure they were forbidden near the castle, or else all out warfare would ensue.

Nell willed her self to stop breathing so she could hear every word exchanged between the three men.

"Are you positive of this?" One of the Rewlian men whispered darkly, his focus absorbed by whatever lie open on the table. King Threylin stood up to his full height and Nell shivered to see the ferocity in his face—it was chilling and unnerving to think a human being could look that demonic.

There was bestiality within these men that Nell had never seen before. Suddenly she began to reconsider her decision to climb down the steps, and bit her lip as the men continued.

"Threylin," the second Rewlian man growled. "You understand, if we can wipe out all of Narnia, our forces will be strong enough to cover the remaining kingdoms. We would have total domination."

Nell's breath caught in her throat and she thought for a moment she might faint. _Narnia? No! _For her entire life Nell was sure Narnia did not exist. Then again, she was not a girl of education so how would she have been sure of Narnia's existence? She'd heard the stories since she was a child, of the great talking lion and the four children to rule, but she had never in her wildest dreams believed it could be true! Her heart began pounding ferociously. Wait a minute—Threylin and these men were planning to _exterminate _Narnia? Why? And why was King Threylin in talks with men who were bitter enemies? He could have his head off for treason!

Suddenly Nell realized she was not supposed to be listening to this conversation between men. Immediately panic settled deep within her blood, as she felt the need to escape and escape fast. If Threylin or any of these men found out she had heard what she had, her life would be over instantly.

"We need to move our forces quickly," Threylin was saying. "It would take not a day to wipe out Narnia, but it is very far from here. We need to form quickly and quietly."

Nell couldn't help listening even as her breath began constricting in her throat from fear. She was startled at the horror of the situation, and began backing up quickly, intending on turning and sprinting up the cold staircase as quickly as she could. But Fate proved to have other plans as Nell went flying forward, having tripped over her tattered dress. There was a loud collision of her body into a side table in the room, and the painful clattering of a goblet as it hit the floor with a metallic _clunk. _

What happened next, Nell would later ponder even in years to come, all happened in a slow moment of haze and felt quite surreal. The three men's eyes darted to Nell, and there was a moment of complete stillness that settled within her very bones. All she could do was stare at the men, and then as if time sped up quickly, she watched as King Threylin yelled ferociously "Kill her!" and just ducked in time to miss one of the Rewlian men's arrows.

Instinct kicked in at that very moment and the only though that raced through Nell's mind was to get out. The yells and shouts from the men behind her were merely a buzz as her mind was clouded with the thought of escape. She felt her body pull her forward faster than she had ever run in her life, up the staircase and slammed the door behind her to buy her more time.

"Nell, what the hell--?" Tomkin's questioning stare lingered on a frazzled and frightened Nell as she grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and forced him to start running with her. She could hear the men's footsteps thickly padding up the staircase.

"Tom, I've got to leave, they're gonna kill me!" Nell breathed as the two sprinted out of the palace. Nell was running harder than she had ever run before and her head was beginning to spin from the exertion of energy. "I need a horse, any, please help me."

Tomkin was beyond bewildered as they reached the stable. He paused for a moment. "What the _hell_ is going on Nell? Who is going to kill you?"

"NOT NOW!" Nell bellowed. She was frantic and shaking and certain the Rewlian men and Threylin would be there at any moment. They would kill her. She was not supposed to have overhead the plan! They would murder her in an instant, what was her life worth? "Get me a horse, quickly!"

Tomkin obeyed Nell's furious yells, quite frightened by this point. Nell heard shouts coming from the castle and quickly rushed after Tomkin. They were nearing the stables.

Tomkin approached with a pitch black horse, strong and swift. Nell suddenly remembered Kiche and her earlier promise…however this was not the time for being picky.

"Kiche…is Kiche ready?" Nell asked hopefully.

Tomkin gave her an angry stare. "I was not aware you had a preference! Quickly, saddle up, and tell me what the hell is going on!"

Nell quickly sat atop the strong horse and looked painfully at her friend. "I overheard the King and Rewlians! They are planning something, some kind of extermination. They saw me and tried to kill me…they'll have my head!"

Tomkin looked at his friend bewildered and serious. "Go to the wood. It is easy to go far there, there are tons of brush and trees to keep you from vision." The men's voices were just outside the stable, and the door was thrown open. Nell gasped as she looked behind her. It was Threylin and a few of his men, but the Rewlians were nowhere to be seen.

"GO!" Tomkin bellowed. Nell looked down at her friend and felt a million emotions pulling at her heart.

"I will find you again," she breathed, as she kicked hard at the horses' side and burst through the stable. The guards and Threylin quickly sped after her.

Tomkin could only hold his breath in horror.

* * *

Nell felt as if she had been riding for hours. Once she reached the wood, the voices of the men behind her began to fade and their arrows grew less and less. There had been a moment when Nell was sure she was going to die and felt an arrow graze her ear, but she had slunk down low to the horse and had escaped death for now.

It had been an hour of riding before Nell was positive she had lost the men. She was deep in the wood, and everything around her was dark. She was sure the men would not give up; although her life was nothing of importance, she had overheard valuable information from the King and had seen him conversing with the enemy. She knew Threylin would only rest until she was dead.

How had she gotten herself in this mess?

The night grew colder and darker and Nell's entire body erupted into shivers. She had never been in the wood before, and she gripped the reins tighter as fear began to claim her. But she didn't dare to stop riding. She must ride as far and as long as she could, else she knew she would be dead before morning.

Had it been hours? She no longer knew of time, of her whereabouts…she felt dazed and old and beaten. Exhaustion began to claim her, and her head was still swimming with the realization of the night's events. It felt so long ago that she was laughing with Tomkin as they lit the fires of the palace.

She damned her curiosity. It had gotten her into this entire mess, and it would surely cost her life. Nell felt her bones ache from the riding and running she had done—she was far from physically fit, and her shrunken figure had not exerted that much exercise since she was at least ten. Her stomach began to throb, and her vision was blurry. She looked behind her quickly, and then in front. There was thick wood all around her, and she slowly stopped the horse. She could have been riding for an hour or five, she had no idea.

Nell slid off the horse slowly, quickly tying him to a nearby tree stump. She felt as if she could no longer move, no longer exist…slowly she sunk to her knees, and the last thing she saw before her eyes closed was the pale moon before her.

* * *

"She looks dead."

"Nay, not dead, but almost there."

The sunlight and the voices invaded Nell's foggy mind as her toes began to twitch her awake. Her head felt as if it weighed a thousand pounds and she could not for the life of her understand why she felt twigs and dampness against her back, seeping through her thin dress. Since when were there leaves in her cot?

Then the previous night's events came flooding back in and Nell grimaced, her eyes screwed tightly shut against the intrusive sun. She felt a heavy weight seize hold of her heart, and she wished in that moment she could sink deep into the earth, amidst the soil and worms and fragment into a thousand particles.

"She looks like she's having a bad dream."

The voices caused Nell to shoot her eyes open in fright, and she squinted against the vibrant sun. It was a great deal warmer than it had been the night before, and Nell could feel tiny beads of perspiration edging across her forehead. She sat up immediately. The sight before her knocked the wind out of her.

There were creatures all around her—half men, half horse. _Centaurs!_ Nell was shocked, could barely breath as she looked at all of them. There were at least five or six tall, beautiful, _real _centaurs. Nell couldn't believe it! All the stories she had heard of Narnians, and now they were there in front of her!

"Good morning miss." Nell nearly jumped from fright and surprise as a particularly tall and fierce looking centaur spoke to her, coming closer and closer. All wonder aside, Nell was frightened beyond words. Was she in forbidden territory, would they kill her as Threylin would surely kill her?

She attempted to stand up but her knees had other plans; they buckled beneath her and she collapsed in a heap of sharp limbs and tattered cloth. The centaurs looked at her with something foreign in their eyes…they were guarded, that was for sure, and slightly suspicious, but they did not seem as if they would kill her.

"What are you doing in these woods?" The centaur asked Nell. She gulped, trying to think of some excuse. "They are very dangerous…the Kingdom of Bailetha lies just on the other side."

"I know," Nell breathed, her voice raspy and deep from thirst and sleep. "I come from Bailetha."

There was an immediate squirm that went through the centaurs and Nell was reconsidering her decision to tell them she was from Bailetha. What if they killed her simply because they thought she was a spy or something? She'd come all this way escaping thus far the clutches of Threylin, she'd be damned if she died from a group of such wonderful creatures.

"Orieus, we cannot trust Bailethans," one of the other centaurs said, causing Nell's heart to race. "They have been enemies of Narnia for centuries."

The centaur called Orieus studied Nell's crumpled form, his eyes unreadable. Nell guessed him to be the leader—these centaurs were definitely warriors. If their intimidating presence wasn't enough, their armor and weaponry slung across their chiseled chests definitely were. Nell felt her head go light from fear.

"She is weak," Orieus said aloud, observing Nell. She felt a prickle of indignation but it was extinguished the moment she attempted to stand again. Yes, she was weak. Hell, anyone would be weak if they leaved off a diet of soggy apples. "She is harmless to us Arie. We must take her to the High King. He will know what to do with her."

_The High King! _Suddenly Nell remembered what she had overhead. Narnia was in danger. They were going to be exterminated! If she could warn the High King, perhaps there was a chance that Bailetha and Rewlyn would not succeed.

Arie stepped forward, a glare in his amber eyes. "What we do is leave her here. She is not a citizen of Narnia, she is not ours to take."

Orieus turned to Arie, rising to his full height. Nell was speechless in awe at his magnificence. She had never seen anything remotely close to his beauty. She prayed that Orieus was a just being, and would spare her life. Then cold realization hit her; what if they _returned _her to Bailetha? She would never go back there, she would be dead the minute she set foot in the kingdom.

"Miss, why are you in the wood?" Orieus' voice was rich and firm. It was soothing in some strange way to Nell, and when she spoke she found her voice was steadier than the last.

"I cannot go back to Bailetha," she said, desperation in her large eyes. "Please, I am not an enemy."

Her answer seemed to suffice enough for Orieus, who untied Nell's black horse and handed the reins to a centaur. "You will ride with me back to Narnia. You are too weak to ride alone. There, the High King shall determine what to do with you."

Nell felt herself be lifted onto Orieus' back, her mind racing a million miles a minute. She was overwhelmed with all the new information she'd received in less than twenty-four hours. Narnia was real…it existed, and it was real, and she was in the presence of Narnians now. She had overhead King Threylin's plans to exterminate Narnia, and have Bailetha and Rewlyn supreme rulers of every kingdom.

She felt weak as she knew she had to try and warn the High King. How had she gone from a nothing servant to being on the run for her life? All she wanted was a warm bath and a meal. For now, she wished to forget about everything that was sure to change her life.

Alright, there it is! Review up my little darlings. Next chapter we meet the kings and queens! Yay. )


	3. Introductions

Nell felt her heart in her throat as she clung desperately to Oreius' back, her stomach lurching with each gallop

Nell felt her heart in her throat as she clung desperately to Oreius' back, her stomach lurching with each gallop. She felt the weakest she had ever felt in the entirety of her life. She didn't even remember the last time she'd had something to eat—had it been days? Weeks? Okay, her exhaustion was making her a bit melodramatic, but she could feel her conscious slipping as she continued the journey to Narnia with the intriguing pack of centaurs.

"Oreius?"

Oreius turned slightly, acknowledging Nell's timid voice as they continued across a vast pasture, lush green spreading out for miles and miles. Nell had never seen fields so green! She was amazed. They must be incredibly far from Bailetha.

"Yes, miss?"

"The High King of Narnia—"

"King Peter," Oreius supplied helpfully.

"King Peter," Nell repeated, the name rolling off her tongue in anguish. "Is he a just king?"

"Quite so," Oreius said seriously. "The most just and wise leader in all the Kingdoms. I trust he will help you figure something out."

Nell couldn't help but gulp. She wasn't exactly sure what 'Figure something out' meant. She prayed silently that this High King Peter wouldn't have her head…what if he didn't like to deal with runaway servants? What if he thought she was making up the plans she had overheard King Threylin? What if he thought her better (she shivered at the thought) dead?

Nell was tossed most unceremoniously from her anxieties when the pack emerged atop a great hill. Her breath hitched in her throat—a magnificent castle and kingdom lay ahead and Nell felt her pulse quicken. She could feel the blood pounding in her ears.

They had arrived.

"Cair Paravel," Oreius breathed. "Home."

Nell gulped. This certainly was not her home at all.

"Take _that_! You bloody scoundrel you!"

"Ed, honestly, can you please refrain from such coarse language?"

Peter let out a chortle and took the opportunity Susan had provided from the sidelines to quickly side-step Edmund's sword, catch his brother off guard, and send both Edmund and his weapon clattering to the hard ground of the courtyard.

"No fair," Edmund moaned, righting himself. He rounded on his elder sister, who sat upright on the side with Lucy, reading a book piously and pointedly ignoring her brother's glare. "Susan, you can't interfere like that! You cheated."

"_I _didn't do anything," Susan retorted, though he held a glimmer in her eye as she caught Peter snickering, putting his sword swiftly back in its' sheath. "Blame Peter. He's the one you're fighting."

Peter waltzed arrogantly over to his sour brother, clapping him good-naturedly on the shoulder. "Ah, lighten up Ed, you know it'—"

"Your majesties! There is an urgent visitor!"

The sound of the messenger's voice from across the courtyard caused the four siblings to stop their bickering and focus on the young centaur.

"Salith—what is it?" Peter closed the distance, his siblings following him, within a matter of seconds.

"Your Highness, Oreius and his pack have returned, and they've brought a girl with them," Salith explained quickly as he began to lead the kings and queens toward the Great Hall. "She is Bailethan."

"A Bailethan?" Edmund asked, confused. "What on earth is she doing here? Bailetha is days and days away. We haven't had a Bailethan visitor in years? I don't think…ever?"

Peter's jaw tensed immediately, and all at once any sign of boy was erased. He was a king, through and through, with the regal air of dominance surrounding him.

"Where is Oreius and the girl?"

"The Grand Hall. They are waiting for your council, sir."

Peter nodded. He pulled down the sleeves of his tunic, shaking them out as they rounded the corner into the Grand Hall. Positioned opposite the thrones was Orieus and the other centaurs, and a small girl with her head down beside him. They turned and immediately bowed as the kings and queens took their respective thrones.

The girl, a bit confused at first, quickly followed suit, bowing. Once Peter was on his throne, he got a better look at the girl and immediately grimaced. Merely bowing looked like it was going to break her in half. He had never seen someone so dirty and so frail. He almost wanted to turn his face away, but immediately swallowed, gaining control of himself. He was worldly and seen deadly things. A starved little girl was a far cry from the worst.

The girl stood up shakily from bowing, and turned her face toward the siblings. Her eyes flickered nervously over all of them, finally resting on Peter. He had never seen such a sunken, sallow girl in all this life. She didn't look young—probably Edmund's age or so. But how dirty she was!

"Your majesties," Orieus began, and Peter was thrown out of his reverie of pity for this tiny creature.

Peter nodded to his friend, sitting straightly in his throne. "Orieus, I hope your journey fared well. I daresay it was a good one. But who is your friend? A visitor from Bailetha? Please, miss, step forward."

The girl began to shake uncontrollably and Peter began to fear for her sanity. She looked as if she hadn't been fed in days. Before he could even get another word out, Susan rose and flew directly to the girl's side.

"Oh my goodness, you look ready to pass out!" She exclaimed, putting an arm around her shoulders, not flinching once at the layers of filth coating the girl. "Peter, this girl is going to pass out."

Peter, and his younger brother and sister, rose from their thrones immediately.

"Girl, what is your name?" Peter asked, approaching her. She was pale—practically white. Upon being closer to her, Peter was struck in an absurd moment by the length of her eyelashes. How strange, he thought, they were so long. It was a surreal moment, one in which he was thrown from the minute she opened her mouth to speak.

"I'm Nell Crewe," she said softly. "I'm from Bailetha…and I have…to talk to you." Her voice cracked and her eyes began to flutter closed, as she went crashing to the floor.

"This girl hasn't been fed in weeks!" Lucy cried, covering her mouth as Peter bent to scoop the girl in his arms. She was knocked unconscious.

"Susan, follow me up to the guest chambers," Peter commanded, striding the length of the grand hall with the girl still in his arms. "I want Lucy and you to fetch Talia and have this maiden bathed and scrubbed. Make sure every inch of dirt is gone. Then put to her bed immediately—throw away her rags."

Susan nodded, immediately following orders. Peter turned to Edmund. "Ed, talk to Oreius, and meet in my study. I want to know everything about this girl. Understood?"

Ed nodded, hurrying off.

Peter glanced down at the unconscious girl in his arms, beyond intrigued and shocked at the whirlwind her presence had created. He would just have to wait until she awoke and was properly fed until he could find out exactly who she was.

Her head hurt.

That was all Nell could register as her heavy eyelids began to flutter against her will. She had the worst headache of her life, and her body felt completely bruised. She sluggishly opened her eyes and let out a shrill gasp.

She was in the most beautiful, foreign room she had ever seen. It was far more beautiful than any room she had scrubbed in Bailetha's palace. It had lilac curtains, and beautiful sage colored walls, and the thickest, plushest carpet she'd ever seen. There was a huge fire place with beautiful gems and jewels glittering in the stones, and Nell felt her throat constrict. Beauty such as this shouldn't exist.

Sitting up slowly, Nell realized she was in the biggest canopied bed she'd ever seen, and immediately flopped down again, sighing in content. She never wanted to move. Pushing a strand of her black curls away, she also realized she was _clean. _She immediately jumped out of bed, and in an instant regretted so. The room began to spin, and she grabbed the poster to steady herself.

Once the room ceased twirling, Nell crept slowly over to the grand mirror and let out a shriek at what she saw. That was definitely _not _her looking back. Since when was her skin so creamy? Since when were her cheeks a flushed crimson? Since when did her curls fall _that _shiny? She was…_clean_. Purely, magnificently clean! And was in a beautiful nightgown, lace and thick and beautiful, though she did a poor job filling it out. Though clean, she was still too bony. Much to bony. And she still gave off the presence of a prepubescent boy, not much of a woman at all. But my, how blue her eyes were! She wanted to cry. She felt like heaven.

"I'm glad to see you can stand."

Nell whirled around, her heart pounding, and found herself face to face with the High King himself, holding a tray with a steaming plate. Nell couldn't believe _this _was the High King. She barely had time to register earlier the fact that he was strikingly beautiful, before she passed out. She was expecting a portly, vicious old man. But this…he was the most breathtaking creature she'd ever seen! And so young! Never had she heard of a king so young and handsome! He had golden hair, that despite its glimmer, remained unkempt. He towered over her, and was incredibly broad and taught. She couldn't help but be intimidated by his beauty.

"Your highness!" she breathed, falling into a clumsy curtsy, while simultaneously flushing at the fact that she was in her undergarments. "I—I didn't know you were coming, I'm not dressed…" She trailed off impishly, crossing her arms and looking up at him, her entire face hot.

"Please, don't stress," the king responded, politely diverting his eyes away from her nightgown. She thought she saw a bit of a flush in his face, but she was too tired and nauseous to comprehend much of anything. "I insist you rest, Nell. Lie down."

Nell nodded, quickly climbing back into the large bed, curling up in its deep and warm covers. She pulled them about her shoulders, sitting up against the pillows, and looked at him curiously.

"Oh!" King Peter exclaimed, a dawning of realization on his face. "I almost forgot. Supper—you look starved. Please, I assure you, our cook is magnificent." He placed the tray gingerly across her lap, and pulled up a chair to sit beside her.

"Thank you," Nell breathed, quickly diving into the thick soup. She had never tasted anything so delicious. Once again she felt like crying. An emotional wreck, she told herself.

"I hope you find your quarters accommodating," King Peter explained watching slightly disturbed as Nell devoured the soup. Noticing his slightly surprised eyes, Nell slowed her speed to merely sipping. She kept reminding herself she was in the company of royalty. My, what would Tomkin think about _this! _

"I'm having a few dresses sent up," King Peter continued. "So as you have something more suitable to change into."

Nell's eyes widened. "Thank you so much for your kindness."

The king offered her a brilliant smile and she felt sort of blinded by it. The brilliance shifted her perception back into reality. What in the _hell _was she doing here? Why was she enjoying such luxuries? Surely the king wouldn't be so kind once he found out the matter at hand. Abruptly she stopped eating and looked up, a dreaded knot in the pit of her stomach.

"My Lord," she said quietly, forcing herself to look deep into his eyes. "I have come here on strict notice. I have urgent news that I think would…benefit you." No need to say she was on the run for her life. Why worry over such trivial matters?

"That is why I came up here," King Peter explained, suddenly ramrod straight in his chair, all trace of relaxation waved away. At once Nell could see the transformation from young boy to grown man, a king in all his glory. "Why do you hail from Bailetha, my lady? We haven't had relations with someone from the Kingdom of Bailetha in years. Before my reign, I believe."

Nell swallowed, all her courage in the gulp. She wanted to warn him. She wanted to warn the kingdom of Narnia, and yet she hesitated. Why should she exactly? She had no ties here. Why not just continue her journey, forget about Narnia, and hide away her entire life?

Because hiding didn't do any good. Because Narnia was _real. _Because this was her chance at a new life.

Maybe.

"Sire," Nell began, pushing away her tray and sitting up on her knees so she was eye to eye with the king. "Do you know of King Threylin, ruler of Bailetha?"

Peter eyed Nell wearily, perhaps with a bit of suspicion and foreboding. But his face was guarded, his eyes steel. "I do. His politics are cruel, and his ruling dictatorial."

Nell nodded, biting her lip. "Your majesty, King Threylin is planning to exterminate Narnia. He's in ranks with the Rewlians, and he wants to wipe out Narnia."

Nell hadn't realized she had been holding her breath until after her little speech. She sat back tentatively on her heels, watching for the King's reaction. He was completely unreadable.

"With all due respect, my lady," he began, skepticism evident in his voice. "How did you acquire such information?"

Nell could feel the silliness in her explanation, just lolling on the tip of her tongue. How was she supposed to explain she'd been eavesdropping, heard the plans, and now she was on the run for her life? Could she even trust this king? Everything was a bit absurd, truth be told. She was nothing more than a mere servant…dirt, the mold beneath a boot. All at once she felt incredibly silly for being on the run from her life. Her life was worth nothing.

"Trust me, your majesty," she breathed lamely. She prayed silently that he could read the truth in her eyes. "King Threylin is an evil man. He is power hungry. Please, trust me."

King Peter rose abruptly, narrowing his eyes to Nell. "Lady, you give me no evidence of the nature. Do you truly expect me to raise my kingdom up in arms at your mere _suggestion_? Preparing for battle takes weeks, months even!"

"_Months?_" Nell screeched before she could stop herself. King Threylin was sure to find her by then!

Peter looked at her suspiciously, taking in her outburst. He inched closer to her, until his face was only inches away. Nell could feel her pulse thicken and the blood pumping in her eyes. She felt sick and terrified, and for once wished more than anything she could just be next to Tomkin, scrubbing fireplaces, having no worth once again.

"Why were you running away?" The king inquired. "Oreius said he found you half-dead, alone, without food or drink. Your horse had run off, and you were a bit delirious."

Despite herself, Nell felt a prickle of anger at her pride. _Delirious? _Well no _shit_ she was delirious! She hadn't had a meal in days, she had been riding for her life, and almost died on several occasions, and she had just come face to face with half men half horse creature people! _Delirious._

"I was _no_t delirious," she pouted, feeling a bit of a two year old again. "I was shocked, that's all! A bit hysterical, I suppose, but _delirious,_ honestly…"

There was a flicker of annoyance in the king's eyes and Nell immediately shut up, closing her mouth with a precise snap. She fell against the mountain of pillows, folding her arms and trying to figure out how to persuade the king to trust her, without giving too many details away. Honestly, what if he wanted her dead?

But as the king gazed ruefully at her, she felt all bravado fade away. Kill her? She must truly be delirious. She'd heard stories of Narnia, and all its glory, and simply the hospitality should have been enough to ensure her that King Peter was not going to have her head. She bit her lip.

"Lady," he began, sitting down again in his seat. He let out a quick breath. "If you cannot tell me how you know this information, I will not be able to take your word."

Nell looked up through her lashes, and pushed aside her blankets. She sat on the edge of her bed, forgetting about her nightgown and all its flesh baring cuts…she had no time to be modest. And besides, being this clean had never felt so good and it sparked a tiny flare of confidence inside her. A foreign feeling, most assured.

"Sire." She didn't know how to begin any other way. "I am on the run for my life. I overheard King Threylin make his plans with two Rewlian men whilst cleaning the fireplaces of the kingdom. The men caught me and I managed to escape into the wood. That is where Orieus found me."

She gazed upon Peter, not sure as what to expect. He didn't say anything, so she continued to talk, unable to stand the silence.

"I heard it with my own ears, Sire," she whispered, her face centimeters from Peter's. "You must believe me…I am sure to be killed. Threylin will find me, and kill me, and the least I can do is offer you everything I know before I die."

She felt her voice crack at the thought of death. She felt stupid to have such emotion in the thought of her life. Why should she care if she was dead? No one would miss her. She had no worth as it is…she was indeed probably worth more dead than alive.

"Nell," Peter said softly but seriously. "If what you say is true, Narnia is in grave danger."

Nell nodded, her eyes flickering to the floor. She tucked a lock of hair behind her air, feeling the depth of fear all the way down to her toes. Yes, she was afraid for Narnia. But more than anything…she was afraid for her _life._

"King Peter," Nell began, but the king held up a hand to her.

"Please, my lady, call me Peter," he said gently. Nell looked deep into his magnificent eyes and swallowed hard.

"P-Peter," she said, trying out the new name awkwardly on her tongue. "I swear to you on my life. Though my life is quite negotiable now…"

"Nell, you are safe here. We have the best protection by far," Peter explained. "You will not leave Narnia. You will not die, you may rest assured."

Nell bit her lip, a sense of foreboding deep within her stomach. "Aye, sir…you do not know King Threylin. I will be dead."

There was a coldness that settled in the room, which even the feathered down comforters could not make disappear.


	4. Fate

Note: Hey guys! Here's chapter four. So I wanted to make a little note. I've noticed people reading my story without reviewing, and that's a bit discouraging. I'd really appreciate reviews. I dunno how much longer I'll continue to have inspiration for this story if there aren't any reviews!! So review up. : ) Thanks so much. Enjoy!! "You honestly think what she says is true?"

Peter let out a sigh, running his hands through his hair and over his face. He was in his study with Edmund and Oreius, and he could feel the beginnings of a massive headache. It was an hour after his meeting with Nell, and he had relayed the information she had given him to Edmund and Oreius. Oreius had kept silent, a hard look in his eyes that was unreadable to Peter. Edmund, however, was a bit skeptical and wary.

"All I'm saying is, what's in it for her to lie?" Peter repeated for about the fifth time that evening. "She was just a servant in Bailetha. If she really just wanted to run away, you think she'd risk her life to tell us this elaborate story, if she merely wanted freedom? She'd sooner be dead."

Edmund sat down at the table, folding his elbows and glaring at the wood of the hard surface. "I just don't understand why Bailetha would wish to wipe us out. It doesn't make any sense!"

"None of this does," Peter agreed. "But how can I take such a risk for Narnia's safety?" Peter felt truly stuck. His kingdom was everything to him—there was no way he could ever jeopardize the lives of his people. He felt a terribly familiar ache in his heart as he wished for the millionth time that Aslan were there by his side. If only he had guidance of some kind—he felt the weight of life deadening his grip on reality. He craved Aslan's presence more than anything. Why did Peter feel as if he was a man well into his old age when he was merely on the brink of youth?

"Sire, I believe Nell is telling the truth."

Peter snapped his head up, looking deep into the dark eyes of Orieus. Something let loose inside of him and Peter felt on the verge of joyous warmth at the serenity of Oreius' deep voice. There was assurance in there, and an honesty he felt that warmed the corners of the cold room.

"When I found her," Orieus continued, "I suggested she go back to the Kingdom of Bailetha. I have never seen a fright and hatred so afire in a young maiden. She looked like she was on the brink of death, and yet when I looked into her eyes I saw she was in grave danger, and I knew there was a reason we stumbled upon her."

Edmund let a low sigh, his breathing deep and uneven. "I can't help but be a little weirded out. You will let her live here, Peter, in hiding for her life? I understand we can't let her just run around wildly, but it just seems a bit random."

_**Protect the girl. **_

Peter gave a start as he heard a deep rumbling voice, coming from the captures of his heart. He recognized that voice—it was the voice of Aslan, and in it, it held the most glorious of promises and strength. Looking from Edmund to Oreius and seeing no reaction, he recovered quickly by standing up and pretending to pace up and down his study, though his heart was beating wildly. Was he going insane?

_**Follow my way, my child. Protect the girl.**_

There it was again! It was so clear Peter could have sworn Aslan was right in front of him, in the next room, it was so close, so clear, so real! Peter felt a desire to cry out but something within him extinguished the desire. He could _feel _Aslan with him. This is what he had been praying for, wasn't it? He had felt the consequences before when he had not followed Aslan's guidance.

He knew what he had to do. He could feel it in his heart and in his faith to Aslan, and the decision was as solid and concrete as the walls of his palace.

Peter leveled up to his full height and looked at both his brother and Oreius.

"Nell stays here. We must prepare to fight."

She felt ridiculous.

Nell couldn't help it. She had never worn something so beautiful in all her life, had never even dreamed of it and, here she was standing before the looking glass the following morning in this ridiculously amazing bedroom in the most gorgeous dress she had ever seen and she could not help but feel like an absolute moron in so many ways.

And yet it was intoxicating. Once her eyes had graced over her reflection, she had never wanted to look anywhere else. It wasn't even that _she _looked good in it. If anything, she looked silly and the dress only accentuated the fact that she was not at all developed in the way she should be. But the dress was so…there weren't even words to describe how moved she was and how blessed she felt.

It was a simple jade color and it wasn't anything elaborate or decorative. By noble standards, it was probably rather boring. But to Nell it was something sacred, and she actually felt a bit bad when she slipped into it, as if she was contaminating it just by having it so close to her skin. The sleeves reached her wrists, and the neckline was rounded to expose the tips of her shoulders and, had she had any breasts at all, she would imagine they would have filled out the top quite nicely. It was stunning to her, and simple, and made Nell actually feel like somewhat of a girl. Not a woman, no…but definitely a girl.

But now that she had the dress on, she had no idea what to do with her hair. Hairstyles were never an issue to Nell. Her black curls were long and heavy and nearly reached her waist; they were more of a nuisance than anything, and back in Bailetha she would always put her curls into a tight braid that cascaded down her back.

For some reason Nell didn't want to braid her hair. She looked at her reflection and liked how her hair just fell down in midnight black ringlets, and she decided she'd just leave it down for once. Though she was rather ashamed to admit her reluctance, Nell slowly turned away from the mirror just as there was a knock on her door and Queen Susan peeked her head in.

"I hope I'm not bothering you or anything," the gentle Queen said sweetly as she entered the room, closing the door softly behind her.

"Oh, not at all your majesty!" Nell exclaimed, pleasantly surprised at the woman's appearance. Queen Susan cringed.

"Please, call me Susan? It sounds so informal to say Queen and Majesty and all those nonsensical terms." She offered Nell a regal smile and Nell was taken aback by her striking beauty. There was something so familiar about Queen Su—no, _Susan_, and Nell instantly felt warmed by her.

"What is it with you Narnian royalty and the first name basis?" Nell laughed. "I have never heard of calling a king and queen by their first name! It seems…rather…scandalous to me." Susan laughed and made her way over to Nell's bad.

"May I?" She asked, gesturing to the bed.

"Oh, of course!" Nell said, as Susan took a seat on the bed. Nell followed suit, feeling a little awkward. Was it really necessary for the queen to ask to sit on a bed that wasn't even Nell's?

"Susan," Nell began awkwardly, the concept of her name still rather foreign to her. "I cannot thank you and your family enough for you incredible kindness. I feel terribly out of place and I'm afraid I will never be able to repay your family."

Susan waved a dismissive hand. "Bah! That is nonsense. It is our pleasure to have you, surely. You have come with importance. My brother informed me last night of your talk. I feel it is _us_ who should be thanking you, Nell."

Nell bit her lip. "I must say, I am a little shocked you believe I am sincere. I understand the fate of your kingdom is no joke, and something this grave is no joking matter. But I am a mere stranger to everyone here. I am nobody, and yet you treat me like…well, like _this._" Nell waved her hand, gesturing to the magnificence of the room.

Susan looked deeply into Nell's eyes, and Nell could feel herself start to break. What was it about these siblings that gave them the power to violate with just the gaze of their eyes? Nell felt about two sizes smaller as Susan looked at her. And yet it was not an unpleasant feeling. For once in her life, Nell felt as if someone was actually looking into her, rather than through her.

"Have you gotten a chance to talk to my sister Lucy?" Susan asked, an expression in her lovely eyes Nell couldn't make out.

"No, I haven't."

"I think you should sometime…maybe than you'd understand a little better about how our family works." They sat there in a gentle silence, Nell basking in her confused thoughts, trying to make heads or tails of the entire situation that she had gotten herself into.

"My, it is later than I had anticipated!" Susan exclaimed suddenly, catching a glimpse of the hot sun through Nell's open window. "Shall we go to breakfast?"

"Certainly!" Nell exclaimed, following Susan out the door.

Nell suddenly realized how ravenously hungry she was, and was almost reduced to tears when she realized she'd have a hot meal in only a few minutes. When had her life changed so? And when had she become so damn emotional?

And yet there was always that level of fear. That chain of death that cloaked itself against her heart. Because this fairytale was sure to end.

Because King Threylin would have her dead in days. Of this, Nell felt sickeningly sure.

When Nell walked into the grand hall for breakfast that morning with Susan, Peter had trouble recognizing her. Last night he had Susan send up some of her old dresses for Nell, and looking at her now as she offered him a shy smile as she took a seat between Lucy and Susan, Peter felt a strangeness toward this foreign girl.

He couldn't help but notice how extremely uncomfortable she looked. She was picking tentatively at her food, and kept glancing sideways at Susan and Lucy. Perhaps tips on how to eat royally, Peter mused.

"Oi, Pete, pass me the sausage," Edmund said through a mouthful of food. Peter glowered at his younger brother, and cocked an eyebrow as he passed him the platter of meat. Peter always thought he had the large appetite—but he was afraid his slender brother could quite possibly out eat him any day. For some reason, this thought did not sit well with him. Blame it on male egos, he didn't care.

"I trust you slept well, Nell?" Peter asked, amused when he saw her give a little start at being addressed. She was about to take a small bite out of her toast, and she gingerly put it down to offer him a wide grin.

"Yes, indeed," Nell said, tucking her long hair behind her ears. "Your home is truly amazing."

Peter grinned. "Thank you."

"Did you like your nightgown?" Lucy asked excitedly from Nell's side, a bright smile on her face. "I picked out myself. I thought it would look lovely with your dark hair."

Peter noticed a blush begin to creep onto Nell's white skin, and he quickly put his attention on his food.

"It was very beautiful," Nell said quietly. "Thank you so much."

"Nell," Peter said, wanting to switch the subject from female nightwear to something he actually knew something about. Not that he didn't find female nightwear a rather interesting…he just wasn't particularly fond of hearing it discussed by his little sister. "Do you like to ride?"

Nell looked up into Peter's eyes, a curiosity evident in her expression. "Very much."

"I would like you to join me for a ride, around noon," Peter said, taking a swig of his drink. "I feel we have much to discuss."

At hearing his request, Nell's expression went from light and interested to completely serious. Peter wondered why Aslan wanted him to protect her. What was it about Nell that was so special? What was so different about her from every other servant maiden in other kingdoms?

"Alright." Nell's voice was steady and sure, differing immensely from the tone she'd used the previous day when she had first been brought to the royal courts.

"I'll advise you now," Edmund started, looking at Nell seriously. "Peter's a terrible rider. I'll give you full permission to laugh at his horrific style."

Peter glared at his brother, chucking a piece of toast at his head. "You shut it." He grumbled. He flicked his eyes over to Nell who was trying to hide a smile, and he felt his annoyance at his brother only deepen.

"Edmund, wasn't it only yesterday that Peter absolutely dominated you in a swordfight?" Lucy quipped happily, looking lovingly at her bickering brothers.

"Oi! If _Susan_," Edmund glared at his older sister, who kept her eyes pointedly on her food, a tug of a smile at her lips. "Hadn't distracted me, I would have easily won, no competition."

"No competition, eh?" Peter laughed, remembering his good skill. "When was the last time you ever beat me in a sword fight?"

"Well when was the last time you beat me in a race?" Edmund retorted, smiling smugly.

"Oh would you two cut it out!" Susan sighed exasperated. She turned toward Nell, who was watching the sibling argument with much interest. "They're always like this, mind you. Both of their heads are so big, I'm surprised they can fit in the same room."

Nell laughed, and Peter thought glumly Aslan might have the wrong girl.

She felt apprehensive. That was the only way Nell could put her hurricane of emotions into a single word; apprehensive. It was intimidating, being alone in the presence of the High King. Only two days ago Nell had never once in her life been in the presence of royalty for more than a few seconds…and here she was, living this strange lie of a life in the most beautiful palace she had ever seen.

The hillside was breathtaking. Lush green spread out for miles ahead and Nell felt the weight of the world melt easily off her shoulders. She held the reigns on the black beauty she was riding, feeling the silky whisper of its mane. She thought softly of Kiche and wondered if she would ever have the chance to ride the tiny horse. Something close to an ache in her heart let her know the chances of that fantasy were slim to none.

Despite Edmund's accusations at breakfast that morning, Nell thought Peter a magnificent rider. It was effortless; he was spectacular to watch as he rode his white horse up the hillside, and Nell felt as if he belonged more in a painting. His large hands held the reigns with ease, and his posture was beyond perfect. Nell felt more and more like a royal ogre as she rode with the king. Style and grace just was not a gift that Nell possessed.

The wind was cool and Nell could feel summer growing to a close. Her hair danced around her and whispered in her ears lovingly. She grinned. She could definitely get used to Narnia.

"Did you ride often in Bailetha?" Peter asked her, looking back over his shoulder as Nell trotted to catch up with him and fell into stride on his right. The wind was having a field day with Peter's locks and Nell found it to be sort of distracting.

"Whenever I had the chance," Nell told him. "I worked in the stables when I wasn't in the kitchen. Bailetha has beautiful wild horses."

Peter grinned. "What did you do in the stables?"

"Oh, nothing much really," Nell murmured, shrugging lightly. "Fed the horses, brushed their coats. My best friend Tomkin would usually help me."

"Tomkin?" Peter asked, raising an interested eyebrow. "Is she--?"

"He," Nell corrected, smiling. "_He_ is my best friend. I…he helped me escape…He knows not where I am. He probably thinks I'm hurt." She bit her lip, looking at Peter who watched her gently. "He is my greatest friend. I wish he could see Narnia! He wouldn't believe such beauty."

Peter smiled warmly, pulling the reigns of his horse to reduce the gallop to a slow trot. They were passing over hill after hill, the clear blue sky stretching on for endless miles.

"I'm glad you enjoy it," he said. His voice was low and masculine—Nell was surprised. It did not fit with his youthful looks. "I hope you stay here."

Nell looked out at the miles and miles of endless wonder, feeling an overwhelming need for the beauty and freedom of such a place. She wanted to absorb everything, all of, until it touched every last fiber in her body and caused to her explode into a thousand particles. She wanted it that much. So much it caused her heart to hurt.

"I don't think I have anywhere else to go," she said dryly. "Peter, you and your family's kindness is beyond all measure. How can I repay you?"

Peter shrugged uncomfortably, and Nell began to regret her words. Was she actually _embarrassing _the High King?

"No need," he muttered. He flicked his eyes to Nell's. "Your warning is payment enough. It astounds me Nell. To risk your life for a kingdom you thought unreal only days before."

Nell swallowed, the wind beginning to whip her hair about her face. She tucked it behind her ears, growing increasingly annoyed with its existence. Sometimes she wished she'd just chop it off, be done with it all. She looked back to Peter, who had stopped riding. She pulled gently on her reigns, causing her horse to stop as well.

"Honestly Peter," she told him seriously. "Regardless if I warned you or not, I'm sure the fate of my life would be the same."

Peter snapped his head about at Nell, giving her a grave look that took her aback. "The fate of your life, Nell, is not death. I can assure you—you are safe in my kingdom."

Nell felt a flame in her belly. Who exactly was this king anyway? What made him so sure he could protect her? King Threylin was a dark, vicious man. His heart was cold, and when he wanted something he would stop at nothing to get it. Nell might be just a small stone in his path, but nevertheless she was a stumbling block. Threylin would have her killed…and soon.

"Peter," Nell began, biting her lip. "I told you once—Threylin's heart is black. It is cold. He is after my life…he _will _kill me."

"Do not underestimate my forces," Peter told her pointedly. Nell felt herself bristle.

"I am not, I am merely saying that Threylin is after me, and he will kill me—"

"Do you not have _any_ faith?" Peter interrupted her, hopping off his horse and steadying himself on the ground. He took the reigns off of the animal and tied it around the large tree in which they had stopped beside. He turned and looked Nell full in the eyes. She felt her grip tighten on the reigns before she loosened her grip and gently slid off the horse. She felt Peter's hands gently on her waist to help her dismount and she couldn't help but feel her face heat up. Once her feet were set on the ground she turned to look at Peter.

"You will _not _die," he told her firmly. She clenched her jaw.

"You may try and protect me all you want," Nell told him boldly. "And I thank you for the attempt, but as long as I am alive I will be hunted."

Peter narrowed his eyes, towering over Nell. She felt diminished and inadequate merely in his presence. She resisted the urge to stomp on his foot and run the other direction.

"You are impossible," he told her frankly. "Why even try to live then? Why warn me of my kingdom's fate?"

"Because I'm going to die anyway! Why not try and _do_ something.Why not try and help? I'm dead either way."

"_You. Are. Not. Going. To. Die_." Peter said each word through his clenched jaw, staring firmly into Nell's eyes and she couldn't help it. She really, really hadn't mean to—looking back on it she felt extremely foolish and wished what happened would have taken a different path. But the ferocity of Peter's words and the blatant faith in his eyes broke her heart. She felt herself crumbling. She thought of her life, and how pointless it all was, how she'd been born a work horse, slaved away eighteen years, only to die forgotten and unloved. This is the way her world would end—Threylin would kill her, and that was it. She'd cease to exist. So why _not_ help? Why not have Narnia saved?

All at once everything hit Nell in the chest and her eyes welled with tears. She felt stupid and emotional as she began to cry feebly and she wanted the earth to swallow her up.

She kept her gaze down and she felt Peter stiffen.

"Nell—I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound harsh," he said softly, uncomfortably. She felt him make a move toward her and then think twice, staying where he was. She wiped her eyes vigorously, and took a deep breath looking up.

"I'm fine," she said shortly. "I don't want to discuss my life any further." She saw an edge of protest in Peter's eyes so she spoke quickly. "What did you wish to discuss on this ride?"

He sighed, leaning against the bark of the tree. Peter looked at Nell and exhaled deeply.

"We need your help," he said simply. Nell furrowed her brows, coming closer to him. She reached up at a low branch, picking off a leaf and twisting it around in her hands until it had stained her fingers green.

"My help? What can I do?"

Peter offered a gentle smile, bending one of his knees so his foot rested on the trunk of the tree. "You have spent the entirety of your life as a Bailetha citizen. How old are you?"

Nell sat down gently on the grass, folding her legs beneath her and picking handfuls of the grass up in her fists, only to sprinkle them around her. She looked up at Peter. "Eighteen."

He raised an eyebrow. "Ah."

Nell laughed gently. "Surprised?"

Peter shrugged, looking at the blanket of sky above them, reaching up to a large branch and hanging gently by one arm. "You don't look eighteen. Edmund's eighteen. You look younger."

Nell smirked. "That is a very rude thing to say to a lady Peter."

Peter felt himself smiling. "Lady? I see no lady in my presence." He felt a brush of a twig on his shin as Nell made an indignant clucking noise in the back of her throat.

"Did you just throw a stick at the High King?" He asked, feigning offense.

Nell shot him a challenging look. "I see no king in my presence."

Peter glared at her for a minute, then offered her a smirk. She looked positively livid, and he found it quite amusing.

"We need your help Nell," he told her, coaxing her back into a less hostile mood. She looked at him, the anger slowly ebbing away and he saw the tension leave her jaw. "You know Bailetha well. We need you to help us with information about Threylin and his army."

Nell sighed, looking up into Peter's eyes. "I'm sorry, I wish I could help, but I know nothing of his army. I am a servant. That's _it_. I don't think I'll be much of a help. Unless you're interested in his dining…or what firewood he likes in the chambers."

Peter let go of the branch and came to sit in front of Nell. He looked into her eyes seriously and she couldn't help but gulp.

"I believe in you," she blurted, before actually weighing her words. She _believed _in him? How? She didn't even know him! The sun was making her foolish.

Peter's head snapped up, and he quirked an eyebrow. "You believe in me?"

Nell shrugged. "I guess. I dunno. Sure. But you have to fight against Threylin. You can't let him win."

Peter grinned, leaning his head back. The glow of the dying sun caressed his face and Nell was sure she had never seen anything more beautiful.

"I won't," he said, sure of himself. "I will fight to the death."

Nell grumbled, lying on the grass. "That's what I'm afraid of."


	5. A Bite in the Night

Author Note: Hey guys!! Sorry this took a bit longer. I've had this chapter written for awhile but my internet was messed up and didn't let me upload it. Anyway, here's chapter 5. I've already started chapter 6. Thanks so much for the reviews.

Please keep reviewing!! They really are inspirational. I'll still update if I don't get reviews, but I often notice people add this story to their alert list but never leave reviews. I'd love to hear what you guys think! Thanks so much. Enjoy!

* * *

The softness of his bed only made his exhaustion deeper. Peter closed his eyes the minute he felt his body hit the mattress and groaned deeply. Every inch of his body ached, and he ground his jaw tightly as he stripped off his tunic, dropping it carelessly on the floor. He stretched his arms above his head and felt his breathing begin to steady itself to a regular pattern. What a tiresome day.

When he and Nell had returned from their afternoon ride Peter had ordered an urgent meeting with Edmund, Oreius, and the council. They made immediate plans to strategize an army, and worked straight through dinner at their battle plans. They had to go over weaponry, armor, and soldiers, and the task was a daunting one. Narnia hadn't been preparing for battle for several years, and the air of a fight brought an element of excitement to its threshold. After the meeting Peter had a sudden urge to sharpen his swordsman ship and he and Edmund had spent the next three hours dueling and trying out new battlefield techniques. He hadn't realized how much he loved the thrill of a fight until this very moment that he lie exhausted on his mattress.

But he felt a sadness ebbing inside. A low melancholy melody that haunted and teased him and he groaned in frustration, throwing an arm behind his head and staring at his ceiling. The hollowness came back into his chest. He had forgotten about that particular feeling with the excitement of the past few days and Nell's arrival, but here, alone lying in his bed he remembered it well. He began to remember how alone he truly was.

_**I am always with you.**_

He sat up immediately, his heart speeding up. _Aslan._ Suddenly he closed his eyes and warmth filled him so fully he thought he would combust. He was _not _alone. He was _not _hollow. Aslan would be with him forever, a constant in his life even if his presence were not concretely there.

He was in his heart. And he had told Peter to protect Nell, and Peter would, for as long as he needed to. For as long as his kingdom was safe, Peter would follow Aslan's orders. Because the great lion could see a bigger picture than Peter could see himself, one that was greater than this human lifetime. Peter felt ease as Aslan's voice reverberated around his bedroom and he pulled his six foot two frame off his bed and sauntered lightly over to the window.

Looking out at the beauty that was the night sky, Peter leaned heavily against his wall. The world was so large, the sky so vast that Peter felt miniscule in it. He felt helpless to its wonder and its beauty, and he knew for the rest of his life he wanted to make the world he lived in a better place. Men like Threylin could not dominate the world—there was good on this Earth, and Peter truly believed good would outshine the evil. He wasn't naïve, no, Peter was far from naïve. He felt much older than twenty one, and he felt confident that with Aslan by his side, Peter could secure the safety of Narnia for all the years of his reign.

Ugh. _Reign._

Peter's conversation with Susan only a few nights ago down in his cove came back to him and made him feel a bit nauseous. Every time he was in the presence of the council they always eyed his left ring finger wearily. Why did he feel the pressures weighing down on him to marry? He didn't _want _a wife. He didn't want the responsibility of such a commitment. Sure, love would be nice. And falling asleep with another warm body close to his wouldn't be very awful at all. But there was no one. No one Peter felt connected to, no one who would understand him. No one worth fighting for.

Peter pushed the unwanted thoughts of marriage out of his mind and decided a glass of water would do him well. He didn't bother to put his shirt back on—it was well into the night and the castle was sure to be sleeping. With one last longing look at the freedom of the sky, Peter left the private confines of his bedroom in search of a refreshing glass of water.

* * *

She couldn't sleep. Nell lay in her large bed and fidgeted uncontrollably until she couldn't take it anymore and hopped angrily onto the floor.

Her mind was racing uncontrollably and she was unsure how to stop it. All she could think about was Tomkin, and whether he was worried about her, and how much she missed him and his flaming red hair and how he made her laugh. She ached to think of him. She prayed silently that he was alright and that he was not in danger of Threylin's angry warpath.

Threylin. Every time she thought of him she shivered involuntarily. How many days did she have left before he found her and ended her life? She sighed, walking over to her window and peering out at the beauty before her.

It simply wasn't fair. Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy were the four luckiest people in the world. To actually _live_ here is one gift too many—but to _rule _over it? For it to be _your _kingdom? The thought astounded Nell. She could not fathom such an amazing thing. She felt hot with anger at everything around her. She did not belong here. She did not deserve any of this gratification. She was nothing, nothing, _nothing. _She contaminated every inch she stepped on in Narnia and she hated herself for it.

Nell bit down on her lip in frustration so hard she began to taste the metallic blood fill up her mouth. She reached a hand absentmindedly to her lip and felt the hot, sticky liquid oozing from the bite. The pain came slowly and Nell gasped at how hard she had bitten. She strode over to her mirror, and grimaced at her lip. Great. Now she was even _more_ unpleasant to look at. As if she needed anything else to alienate her from this place.

Sighing, she decided a wet rag would help heal the rather repulsive gash she made by biting on her lip. As she quietly left her bedroom—deciding that it didn't matter to roam the castle in her nightgown, who would be up anyway?—she tried desperately to remember the way to the kitchen.

Within five minutes Nell was completely and pathetically lost. The bite on her lip was still bleeding a bit and Nell could only imagine how horrific she looked. She almost felt like laughing at the ridiculous predicament. How did she get herself in these situations? And why the _hell _did every single corridor in this godforsaken palace look _exactly the same!_

Her frustration level was high as Nell contemplated turning around. But then she realized she had no idea how to get back to her bedroom. Nell was having a vision of herself shriveling up to a little prune in the corridor and dying of starvation when she turned a corner and smacked straight into a very half-dressed and messy haired High King of Narnia.

"BAGH!" Nell yelled, sprawling out onto the hallway, the heavy collision causing her to lose her balance and end up in a heap on the floor…a _wet _heap on the floor. She looked up to the bewildered expression of Peter, holding a now empty glass. Her eyes drifted to his bare chest and she felt her cheeks flame and immediately wanted to die. Seriously…what cruel person was up there laughing at her misfortune? She was sprawled out on the ground in her nightgown, a bloody gash on her lip, her eyes no doubt heavy with sleep deprivation and on top of everything her nightgown—_white_ nightgown—was now very, very wet.

"Nell? What the hell are you doing awake?" Peter asked, reaching out a hand that Nell pointedly ignored and stood up straight, crossing her arms over her chest.

"You got me wet," she told him, trying to cover up her now see-through nightgown. His eyes flickered down and immediately popped back up, and she saw something strange pass through his eyes, a muddle expression she couldn't read. All at once the fact that he was shirtless made the entire situation incredibly more awkward.

"Why are you roaming around at this hour?" Peter asked her, looking at her like she was a freak of nature. Nell wished more than ever the ground would swallow her up. Especially when Peter's eyes hit her lip. "And why the _hell _is your lip bleeding like that?"

"Erm…(could she want to die more?) I bit it." She looked up at him in an attempt of casualty but he quirked an eyebrow.

"How hard were you biting?" He took a step toward her and took hold of her chin in his hand, tilting her face toward the light from the candle hanging above them. She felt herself flushing once again. _Get a grip girl! _She told herself angrily. _It's only a man without a shirt…a very gorgeous man without a shirt…no, no, focus, Nell, focus! _

"I was on my way to get a rag," she muttered. He dropped her chin and Nell felt fire where his hand was. "And why are you wandering around half naked?"

Now it was Peter's turn to flush but he recovered loads better than Nell. He stood defiant in his stance, not at all bothered by his lack of clothing. The arrogance of men would forever astound Nell…even at three in the morning.

"This _is _my castle," he told her smugly. She couldn't help but roll her eyes a bit. "I do believe it is in my power to wander around at any state of dress."

"Don't you have any concern for the occupants of your castle?"

"How do you mean?"

"Well _they _are they ones who have to look at you half-naked. Do you like causing your housemates pain? Or premature blindness?"

Nell watched as Peter smirked at her teasing and took a casual sip of his drink, getting the very last drops of water that were not on her at the moment. She didn't think she needed to point out the fact that he looked very, very nice without a shirt on. She had never seen someone so…_chiseled_…no! She must snap out of it! She was a disgusting rat right now, and the thought of her probably revolting appearance cast away any ogling she might have been inclined to do.

"Anyway," she mumbled, shifting uncomfortably in her damp nightgown. "I got lost."

The sight of his grin made Nell want to stomp on his foot. "Ah," he began, nodding and crossing his arms. The candlelight flickered across his torso and Nell had to struggle to keep her eyes above his chin. Being a servant girl for the past eighteen years of her life and having a gangly stable boy for her best friend did not exactly count as having experience with men.

"Well, then I suppose it's very fortunate I spilled my water on you," he said with a crooked smile, cocking his head to the side. "Because I happen to know my way quite well. Come on…you weren't _too _far off."

He turned around and Nell followed him at a gentle pace, trying desperately to tame her wild curls while simultaneously airing out her gown while at the same time sucking on the wound that still bled.

"It's not my fault all your damn corridors look the same," she grumbled. Getting tossed around and spilled on at three in the morning in a foreign castle was prone to make Nell a bit grumpy.

She heard Peter laugh ahead of her and then they entered the kitchen. The only light came from the silvery moon that hung low in the summer sky. Peter walked over to a stool by the wooden cutting table, pulling it out and gesturing to Nell.

"Sit," he ordered. Nell followed and took the seat, resting her chin in her hands and frowning down at her lip. Peter set about getting a rag and wetting it from the water basin and laughed when he came over to Nell glaring at her own lip.

"Here, lift up your chin a little bit," he told her gently. Nell did as she was told and was about to take the rag herself when she felt his hand snake around the base of her neck, his fingers deep into her hair as he held her head in place, lifting it up to the moonlight. With surprising grace for a man with such large and rough hands, he pressed the cold compress against her cut and she inhaled sharply from the pain.

"You baby," he told her, laughing. She shot him an angry look.

"It hurts," she pouted. He laughed, this time pressing a bit lighter. Nell closed her eyes from the pressure of the pain, trying hard to not dwell on the fact that his hand in her hair felt very, very nice. Then she reminded herself that she was not pretty in any sense of the word and immediately she went back to the shell of herself, wanting to curl inside and disappear.

Peter pulled the rag back after a moment, and looked at her lip with concentration. "I think it stopped bleeding," he murmured, tracing the wound with his thumb. Her heart beat wildly against her will as his thumb grazed her lips. Nell's eyes fluttered open in surprise at his soft caress, and his eyes met hers. "Hey," he muttered, his voice deep. "You have really long eyelashes."

In an instant that made Nell's heart thump, he dropped the rag and withdrew his hand from her hair, coughing and turning to throw the rag into a basket in the corner.

"Thanks," Nell muttered, unsure of the strange look and gentleness Peter had just been displaying. And what was with that comment about her eyelashes? The king was a very peculiar man, Nell decided as she watched Peter tap lightly on the wooden surface.

"Don't mention it," he said distractedly. "We should really not be up right now. If you are this cranky at three in the morning, I can't even imagine how awful you are when you don't get enough sleep."

Nell glared at him, hopping off the stool and tucking her hair behind her ears. "Right. Very cranky. Scary even, if you will. I'm quite the monster already, so why not add to my endearing quality by sleep deprivation?"

Peter smiled gently and flicked his head toward the door. "Come on, I'll lead the way. Wouldn't want to end up in the dungeons, would you?"

"Oh har har," Nell grumbled, following Peter. As they climbed the marble stairs, Peter looked at Nell sideways. She felt herself stiffen under his scrutinizing gaze.

"Nell, why did you bite your lip so hard?" His large eyes were full of curiosity and Nell had to steady herself with a hand against the stone wall as she climbed. Her heart suddenly grew cold at the memory of her frustration, of her self-loathing and of the fact that Threylin's existence meant that her own was limited.

"I just got…carried away by my thoughts, I suppose." She met Peter's eyes and he stopped walking, turning around in the tiny stairwell. Nell stopped her walk also, her back against the wall as Peter faced her.

She was afraid. Simple as anything…she was utterly terrified of the future. She _wanted _a place in the world She wanted to have worth, dammit. And yet all she felt was coldness, hollowness, emptiness that would never be filled.

"What must I do to convince you that you are safe?" His voice was low and stern—the voice of a man, a true ruler. Nell felt her throat burn.

"Peter, there is nothing," she said, feeling defeated. "I will never be safe."

Peter let out a growl of frustration, turning and continuing to climb the steps.

"Woman, you are absolutely impossible." Nell shrugged, though Peter couldn't see it.

They finally reached the landing to the hall of the bedchambers. Peter stopped when they reached the door to Nell's room. She put her hand on the handle and turned to look at him as he stood in the darkness. She couldn't really tell where he was—the window of the hall was at the far end and the moon was growing paler as the night got deeper.

"Thanks…for my lip and stuff," Nell mumbled awkwardly, gently tugging on one of her wilds curls. Peter grinned down at her, leaning one arm against the frame of her door and putting the other in the pocket of his cotton sleeping pants.

"Sorry for spilling my water on you," he said, and even in the darkness she could see his smile. "Hope it didn't ruin your nightgown." Nell thanked the darkness for hiding her blush.

"I'm sure it'll be fine," Nell murmured. She gripped the doorknob, unsure of what to do. Peter stood up straight, sighing.

"And sorry for my lack of manners," he said, gesturing to his barren chest. Again, thought Nell, thank you darkness!

"Oh," Nell mumbled, embarrassed. "Right…well it _is_ your castle, like you said." Peter laughed and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Sleep well," he said lightly. "I wouldn't want to see you scary in the morning." He might have winked at her, but the darkness could have been playing tricks on Nell.

"Right," she grumbled, turning the knob and retreating lightly into her room. Once the door was closed, Nell shook her head.

The night was peculiar indeed.

* * *

"So…my brother tells me you are doubting our security."

Nell glanced up at Susan and let out a sigh of aggravation. "I'm beginning to learn your brother is a bit thickheaded."

Susan let out a laugh as she placed her book on her lap, leaning against the bark of a willow tree. It was late afternoon a few days later, and Nell, Susan and Lucy had decided to enjoy the beautiful weather. The lush green created infinite warmth below their naked feet and the gentle wind was soothing. Susan was sitting with her legs extended out in front of her, reading one of her many novels that she was so taken with. Lucy was drawing in her sketchpad, and Nell was weaving together a crown of flowers she'd picked on their way down to the willow tree.

"Oh Peter's nothing compared to Edmund," Lucy giggled, looking up at Nell. "You think Peter's thickheaded try getting through to Ed. He's as dense as a doorknob! He _is_ brilliant though…just a typical man I suppose."

Susan smirked. "We love our brothers beyond measure," she justified to Nell. Nell smiled in return, trying to understand the complex workings of sibling relationships. "But they _are_ young men. They are rather…impulsive on their decisions I guess."

Nell smiled. "They are fine rulers—all of you are—from what I've seen. How do you do it?"

Lucy looked up curiously. "Do what?"

Nell shrugged, weaving through another flower to her floral creation. "You are all so good natured. I always pictured royalty as…well…rather cruel I suppose."

"We aren't typical royalty," Susan assured Nell with glittering eyes. Nell couldn't help but be captivated by her beauty. If these siblings weren't nice enough, did they _really _have to be so beautiful too? Where was the justice in the world! What gene pool did Nell miss out on?

"I am learning that every day," Nell agreed, smiling. She sighed, finishing her crown and tossed it lightly over to Lucy. "Here, I think it'll look nice on you."

Lucy admired Nell's handiwork. "Why don't you wear it?"

Nell let out a cackle, and spread her legs out on the grass, stretching her body. "Because it won't look nice on me at all. It'll look ridiculous."

Lucy frowned. "I think it would look lovely. I think _you_ are lovelyNell."

Nell grinned. "Well you are the first. Come on then, put it in my hair." Lucy happily jumped off and began playing with Nell's hair.

There was peace with the two Pevensie sisters. They were calming to Nell and for the first time in her life she didn't feel judged or unworthy of their presence. Even though she felt as if she shouldn't, Nell couldn't help but feel welcomed. It wasn't logical to her but it was also intoxicating.

"I forgot to mention to you Nell," Susan said, looking up from her book once again. Nell opened her eyes—Lucy's playing with her hair had almost sent her to sleep. "We are dining a bit more formally tonight."

Nell raised her eyebrow in curiosity. "Oh? For what occasion?"

Susan closed her book and a rather apprehensive look clouded her face. "King Larce and Queen Nibora are coming from the Kingdom of Elwyna. We are going to propose for them to assist us in battle."

Nell swallowed and felt her palms get clammy. The thought of Threylin's troops no doubt planning their advance on Narnia made her shiver despite the warmth of the night. Once again reality pulled her out of this bubbled dream. "Right…do you think they will agree?"

Lucy sighed, sitting beside Nell and giving her a strange look. "Well they are a _bit_ obsessed with getting Peter to marry their daughter Alba. But since Peter is not interested, they have kind of been…snubbing us. This should be interesting to say the least."

Nell furrowed her brow. Now she was confused. "Why would it matter if Peter didn't want to marry their daughter? What's the big deal?"

Susan and Lucy exchanged a look. "Because," Susan began. "You see…royalty are expected to marry. At Peter's age he should already be married now…with an heir on the way. The council is not so happy about his…_bachelorhood_. And Elywna had been allies with Narnia for centuries. I'm afraid Peter's refusal to marry Alba might stir up some bad blood."

Nell nodded curiously, fascinated by this information. She was almost sure she had never given a single thought to marriage in the entirety of her life. And why should she? She would never marry, never be a mother. Servants just weren't high up on the list of courting, and she'd more or less accepted that fact long ago. Unless she was thinking of marrying Tomkin, but that idea almost made her laugh out loud. It'd be like marrying her brother, Nell reasoned. If she had a brother, of course. "I had no idea how much pressure there is to marry. Why won't he consider the princess?"

This time Susan and Lucy both let out a laugh. Susan looked Nell directly in the eye. "One minute into dinner tonight and you'll see very, very clearly."

* * *

There was a pit of dread in his stomach that Peter could not shake away.

He was beyond apprehensive about tonight. He was not in the mood to once again avoid Princess Alba. He wanted this dinner to be strictly about business—he needed the kingdom of Elwyna to ally with Narnia. If they did, Narnia would be unstoppable. Threylin would have a much harder time trying to exterminate all of Narnia if Elwyna's troops were beside them.

But something about Larce and Nibora and their deep love of their daughter told Peter they would be more than hesitant to assist a king who denied marriage to their princess. Why couldn't they for once just give it a rest? Didn't they realize the state of a kingdom was bigger than marriage? The softer side of Peter's heart wondered if they believed in love at all. Because as cold as Peter wanted to be, he wanted to marry _for love. _Not for political reasons, not for shallow appearances, not because the council was obsessed with the future of Narnia. No…he wanted to love a girl he couldn't live without. Because _that_, he truly believed, was how marriage was supposed to be.

Peter made his way begrudgingly to Nell's room. Not because it was Nell that was waiting in there, but because going to Nell meant going to dinner and that meant he would have to deal with a very headstrong King and Queen.

Peter knocked tenderly on Nell's door, wondering if she was dressed yet. He had offered to walk her down to dinner since she was still unsure of how to get to the particular dining room, and Susan and Lucy were already down there making last minute arrangements to the meal and such. Edmund was working over some battle strategies with Oreius before dinner, so naturally it was Peter who would have to show Nell the way.

The door opened and Peter tried not to raise his eyebrows when his eyes rested on Nell. She looked…well, very different than how he'd seen her before. For one thing, the dress she was wearing was one he had never seen before. He figured Susan had helped her get ready for the formal dinner tonight, and he had to admire his sister's work. The sky blue gown made Nell's eyes stand out miraculously and he was blinded by their vivid color. Her black hair only stood out more than usual and her lush curls tumbled down her back and her cheeks held a rosy tint to them. Nell definitely looked _healthier_ than the first day she arrived in Narnia—the influx of regular meals was doing her complexion wonders. But there was something else here Peter had never seen before in Nell. There was something feminine about her, something of a woman before him that created a curious sensation in the pit of his stomach. Peter might even venture to say she looked kind of pretty, in a rare way.

"Are you staring at me?"

Nell's voice broke through Peter's mind and he cleared his throat. What was wrong with him? Nell was not the type of girl to cause him to stare, and yet for a moment he'd been a little captivated. But now all he saw was an annoyed tiny creature glaring up at him. He offered her a smile.

"I see your lip is caking over quite nicely." Nell rolled her eyes at him, shutting her door behind her and walking down the corridor alongside him. He caught of whiff of whatever it was she was wearing and the smell was so intoxicated he swore the room had been spinning for a moment. He clenched his jaw tightly. What the hell was the matter with him?

He noticed she touched her scabbed lip self-consciously and he suddenly felt guilty for his teasing.

"I see you've decided to start wearing clothes again. How nice." Peter just smirked at her, all traces of guilt erased.

"You have quite the tongue on you Miss Crewe," he commented.

He saw Nell shrug out of the corner of her eye and tuck some of heir wild hair behind her ear. He was beginning to notice that habit of hers—she always did it when she felt uncomfortable.

"By the way," he said, looking straight ahead and deliberately not catching her eye. "You look…nice." What could he say? He still kind of felt guilty from the lip comment…

"Ha, good one," she muttered, brushing off his compliment like it meant absolutely nothing to her. Peter felt his jaw clench a bit.

"So tell me," she said. "What exactly do I need to do here?"

Peter shrugged. "Just sit, eat, and talk if you want. I dunno, whatever you want to do. Just don't…I dunno, get on the table and dance erotically or something."

Nell flushed but sent him a distinct glare. "I think I can manage that, though the thought is quite tempting…even though I'm not the one who had the indecency to flaunt around half naked, running into poor unsuspecting girls with bleeding lips…" The last part Nell sort of grumbled under her breath.

Peter laughed lightly, enjoying Nell's disgruntled state. For some reason he thoroughly enjoyed getting under her skin. He liked seeing her temper flare…it was indeed rather entertaining.

Nell just shot him a look of anxiety and he paused in his tracks, realization ebbing into his brain. He took hold of her shoulder to turn her around, but immediately withdrew his hand—her dress exposed her shoulders, and the feeling of her skin took him by surprise. He had definitely not expected Nell to feel so soft. He always imagined her to feel bony and hard…but those meals were really doing wonders to her figure. He felt his neck heat up at the discomfort but quickly recovered.

"Nell," he said quietly, curiously, quirking an eyebrow as they stopped in the hallway. "Are you…_nervous?_"

Nell just grumbled, tucking her hair behind her ears. Ah yes, Peter thought. She was nervous!

"You have no reason to be afraid," he told her reassuringly. "Honestly. I'm doing all the negotiating and avoiding and persuading. All you have to do is testify to Threylin's threat."

Nell swallowed, looking up into his eyes through her thick lashes. Very thick, Peter noted. And quite long…too long, he realized. They were quite distracting. She should really think about trimming them, or something.

"Peter," she said softly, and all traces of irritation were gone from her voice. He could hear the fear and anxiety so visibly now. He felt a strange urge to hug her, or something. "You don't understand. A week ago I was sleeping in cot full of bugs in a stable! Now I'm dining with _royalty. _Living with _royalty. _Being…friends" (she blushed a little here) "with _royalty. _What the hell have I gotten myself into!" Her voice reached an octave higher and Peter saw the beginnings of hysterics taking over her face. Without thinking, he took her hands into his. He couldn't help but notice how tiny her hands were in his own large ones…and how soft they felt. Strange, he thought curiously. How soft they were.

_**She is where she needs to be. **_

Peter heard him. He knew there was a reason Nell was here, even if she couldn't see it herself.

"Nell," he said, trying his best to be soothing. This wasn't exactly his best department or anything. "You have no need to be afraid as long as you are here in Narnia. I promise you, I am going to protect you. And this—" Peter cocked his head over to the door leading the dining room. "This is nothing. You have nothing to worry about. I _promise_."

He could tell she wasn't entirely convinced. Her eyes kept darting to the door and she bit her bottom lip nervously. Peter saw this and immediately dropped her hands and cupped her face with his right hand. He saw Nell's eyebrows etch in confusion.

"Hey," he said softly but sternly. "You better stop that biting right now. I will not have you start bleeding through dinner. _That _is something that would not be okay." He offered her a gentle grin and then quickly dropped his hand. With Nell, he seemed to always be finding himself in more and more uncomfortable situations. He thought of Aslan and his request and he looked down at the nervous girl before him and doubt filled his mind. Why was _she _the one Aslan told him to protect? Only a week ago he had no idea she even existed in the world. And now he felt himself obligated to protect her life.

_**She is sacrificing hers for your kingdom. **_

Well yes, that was true. That was quite astounding to be honest, in Peter's opinion. Nell had come here to warn a kingdom she had no relations to, even though she was convinced she would be dead any minute. He sighed, trying to rid his mind of these complexities. He really didn't feel like dealing with it right now—he had a stubborn queen and king to deal with in a moment, not to mention their preying daughter.

"What do you say we go in there," Peter asked, following Nell's gaze to the door. "If we didn't show up I'm afraid they would begin to worry just a little."

He heard Nell grumble and couldn't help the smirk that lit his face. She tucked her hair behind her ears and gave him a weary glance.

"Alright, might as well get this over with," she breathed softly. Before she could run away or start biting her lip again, Peter quickly gave her a little push with his hand on the small of her back—(at his touch, he couldn't help but notice a slight flush of her face. Why did this please him?)—and opened the large chamber door, ushering both of them inside.

Larce, Nibora and Alba were already present. Susan looked to be in an engaging conversation with Larce and Nibora, as they held goblets of the Pevensie's finest wine. Lucy was chatting happily to one of the servants with a tray of appetizers. Edmund seemed to be joking with Alba who pointedly ignored him the moment Peter walked in the room.

Upon seeing Princess Alba drop immediately her conversation with Edmund and begin to make her way over to him, Peter saw out of the corner of his eye Nell's mouth drop open.

"_That's _the princess you won't marry?" she asked incredulously. Peter was taken aback, about to open his mouth to protest or defend himself, when Nell turned her face with a quirked eyebrow. The look she gave him was one of pure disbelief. "What the _hell _is wrong with you?"

Peter inwardly groaned. It was going to be a long night.


	6. Alonely

**Wow....so it's been...what? like a ZILLION years since I've updated! Life just seemed to get in the way. But I don't want to abandon this story. I wonder if I have any reviewers left?**

**So this chapter did not come out a tall like I planned....but hey, it happens right? I hope you all don't hate it. :) **

**Enjoy.  
**

* * *

Nell felt beyond out of her element. She felt ridiculous, part of a great joke she didn't get, she felt like an animal on display for all to ogle at her and poke fun of. As she sat painfully straight in her chair, picking around delicately at her food, all Nell wanted to do was sink down into the floor and disappear.

She was seated between Lucy and Susan, which made her feel a lot better. They were like two blocks of security, warmth radiating from either side of her. Peter was at the head of the table, and as she took a sip of her drink her eyes met his. He offered her a small smile, almost hidden, and she felt only a fraction more relaxed.

She felt kind of silly for it, but Nell couldn't help but stare at the Princess Alba. She was directly across from Nell and kept stealing glances at Peter, who to Nell's amusement, became either suddenly interested in the food, or what Edmund was saying to Larce, or anything at all but the stunning princess. Nell was truly shocked. It was beyond her own reason to think that a young man could ignore such a magnificently beautiful girl. She was—_astonishing_. Nell could think of no better word. Where had she seen eyes so green, or hair so blonde? And her figure! It was enough to make a happily married man swoon, Nell was sure.

But Peter didn't look at Alba once. Even when he brushed her off gently before dinner to go and speak with her parents, not once did Alba's eyes leave Peter, and yet he found everything other than her in the room extremely fascinating. Nell was expecting a plain, homely girl… but _this?_ Nell was sure Peter needed to get his eyes checked. By the way Nell noticed Edmund's lingering eyes on the princess, she was determined Peter had brain damage.

Susan met Nell's eyes as she passed her a steaming dinner roll. The queen grinned gently, her eyes flickering over to Alba for a moment.

"She's quite beautiful," Nell whispered, taking the platter of steaming rolls from Susan's hands and passing them to Lucy. "What is wrong with your brother?"

Susan shrugged, a tiny grin on her lips. "You haven't talked to her yet, have you? Just give it until the end of the night."

Nell inwardly rolled her eyes. There was no way Alba had that poor of a personality that Peter wouldn't even consider courting her. Or maybe he had tried, for all she knew. Glancing at the delicate way Alba sipped her wine, Nell wondered how was it that some people had everything? Nell tucked some hair behind her ear and felt a gaze on her—she looked up to catch Peter's eye and he gave her a wink. She smiled in return.

Well…Princess Alba may have had a lot but she didn't have _everything._

* * *

Peter thought Nell was doing a lovely job. She was composed and didn't bite her lip once—much to his relief. How would he explain to Larce and Nibora about his bleeding guest? They had already eyed her curiously and a bit skeptically enough times in one night. He had introduced her as a very important guest from Bailetha. At the mention of the infamous kingdom, Larce and Nibora exchanged a curious glance. Peter thought it best to wait after the delicious meal to explain the circumstances to the king and queen. He figured maybe once they were a bit more sluggish from fine cuisine they would be a bit more open to opportunities.

Dinner went smoothly enough. Occasionally throughout the meal and his discussions with Larce and Edmund, Peter would steal a glance Nell's way. He simply wanted to check on her periodically, make sure she wasn't about to go into hysterics at any given moment. But by the way she laughed loudly with his sisters and the way she drank slowly from her wine, Peter could visibly see that she was at ease. On a few occasions her sapphire eyes would meet his and for some reason he forgot how to tear his gaze away.

He blamed it on the eyelashes.

After the last of the dessert dishes were cleared away, Peter felt it was time to get to business. He could prolong the matter at hand no more. He cleared his throat, sitting in the most regal fashion he could possibly muster, trying to exhibit all essence of power. Tonight he needed to be in command, and he needed to prove to Larce and Nibora that aiding Narnia would be the correct decision.

"My good lord," Peter began, looking seriously into Larce's large eyes. The king was most definitely a good-natured man, and yet the more and more Peter avoided Alba the more sting he could see in the elder king's eyes.

"I have asked you here to dine on the most grave of conditions. Narnia is in serious danger."

Peter watched the confusion etch on Larce's face. He could see out of the corner of his eye Nell fidget uncomfortably, nervously, and he had to try with great might to not look up at her and offer her a form of comfort with his eyes. There was an urge in him to go over to Nell, and a bizarre desire to touch her, to let her know with his hands somehow, with his touch that she was okay. He blamed it on the wine—his thoughts were having a field day and he figured the wine was the cause. Yet a little seed of doubt told him it might be something more. He desperately wished to clear his head—what were all these insane thoughts for? Bah! He was a man, a strong man, and he'd be damned if this servant girl would ever change _that._

And yet…

Peter felt something pull at his heart as he thought of Nell and of Narnia's safety. He had never felt so alone in his life; he wished so badly his heart ached that Aslan was near him, to guide him, to help protect his kingdom and this strange girl. _Oh Aslan, _he thought grippingly, _Give me strength._

_**I am with you always Child. To the very end of time.**_

There it was. And he felt warm again, and not alone at all, and in fact he felt confident and strong. And maybe Larce would see, maybe this entire dinner wouldn't be for naught.

"Sire." Peter felt Aslan's presence inside him and he knew that even if Larce would never help him, he would be okay in the end because Aslan would never abandon him. "The kingdom of Bailetha is planning to exterminate the entirety of Narnia. Threylin's troops advance toward us, and we have been preparing for battle. I ask you, my Lord, as a friend of Narnia, (his heart gripped here suddenly, for he realized just how heavily the fate of Narnia rested slightly on Larce's answer) I ask you to aid us in battle, and to help us fight off the imposing forces that threaten the very existence of Narnia as we know it."

There. It was said, the offer stood, and Peter tried to read the dark look in Larce's eyes. He tried to will the elder man to his aid, tried to express every ounce of necessity that he could muster. But Peter wouldn't plead. No, he had pride and he'd be damned if he had to resort to _pleading._ The thought almost made him a bit nauseous, as silly as that sounded. Peter had never pleaded for anything in his life. He rather die (call him melodramatic) than plead for something. Maybe, perhaps…that was a bit of his weakness.

Larce cleared his throat. He exchanged a look with his wife that Peter knew not the meaning. Alba sat there confused, motionless, running her fingers through her satin hair. She looked like she was trying to figure out a complicated math problem but had no idea where to begin. All three of Peter's younger siblings were watching the queen and king with intense gazes and seemed to be trying to will them to aid as well. Edmund had a fierce look in his eye, bracing himself for a possible rejection and Peter knew Larce would hear it if his answer was no. Edmund always had a bit of a problem as to filtering his thoughts.

Nell was quiet. Peter thought it looked like she was trying to become invisible, and he saw her gripping her hands tightly, wringing them together in anxiety. He tried to will away his desire to hold them in his own, easing away her anguish.

"Young sire," Larce began, sitting back carefully in his chair, eyeing Peter wearily, with almost a skeptical glint. Peter had to flex his fingers from gripping the sides of his chair. "How could you have acquired such information? And do you honestly believe this source—" his eyes flickered over to Nell. Peter flexed his fingers again, bristling slightly. "Is reliable? And doesn't have a plan of…their own?"

Peter clenched his jaw and breathed deeply. He had known Larce for years, and had always respected him. But deep down, he knew the elder man was one that hesitated to ally with any kingdom. Elwyna was a neutral state and good relations, but also hardly ever helped defend anyone.

_Aslan, please help him understand._

"Nell is from Bailetha," Peter explained, gesturing to Nell who immediately turned a shade darker. She looked bravely at King Larce, and Peter felt a grateful rush to her. He knew she must be terrified, and so far besides from blushing deeply, she had yet to start shaking uncontrollably or anything hysterical. He must remember to congratulate her later, he decided.

"She came to us bearing this news." For a moment Peter was hesitant. Should he explain to them that Nell was a servant who had been eavesdropping? For a moment he felt doubt even in himself. Suddenly it all seemed so silly to him. Why _was _he trusting Nell? What if this was all some big lie just so she could live a life of privilege in the castle? He felt panic rising all over him and fumbled with his thoughts.

But then he heard it. The deep rumble of the strongest lion, the strongest being Peter had ever known. And the sound was angry, disappointed and suddenly Peter was convicted and guilty. He swallowed any seeds of doubt, casting them off. They were lies, and they were the enemy. He knew Nell was true and sincere, and if Aslan told him to protect her, he would rather die than betray him.

"You see," Peter continued before Larce or Nibora could voice any concern. He saw the beginnings of protest in their eyes. "Nell is a servant in the palace of Bailetha. She has risked her entire life, everything, to come and warn us of this impending doom."

Larce turned his eyes to Nell, who gripped her fingers tightly. "My lady," the king said deeply, and Peter could see easily Nell's fright. Why did he want to stand between the elder king and Nell? To act as her shield, to deflect any pain she was suddenly feeling? He felt a twinge of anger toward the elder king for putting so much unwanted pressure in the air.

"Can you testify to this?" The king looked sternly at Nell, as if willing fear into her soul and to deny the entire thing and come clean. Peter saw Princess Alba looking at Nell with disdain and skepticism, as if Nell were a bug Alba desperately wanted to squish. No doubt the fact that Nell was a servant and was dining in such close quarters to her was making the princess more than uncomfortable. Peter felt his disdain toward the stunning princess only increase.

"Your highness," Nell began, her voice slightly shaky and off pitch. She cleared her throat and tucked some of her wild curls behind her ears. "What the High King says is true. My life is worth nothing, sire, and I have my existence to lose. I assure you King Threylin is planning to exterminate all of Narnia. He is a most wicked man—I am sure his plan does not stop merely with the acquiring of Narnia."

"Oh really? You are _sure _of this?" King Threylin asked in a booming, voice, a bit of laughter in his eyes as he quirked an eyebrow. "I'm sorry, my dear girl, but what makes you think your mere word is enough evidence of this preposterous accusation?"

Nell bit her lip, glancing at Peter quickly. "Your highness, you must tru—"

"The kingdom of Bailetha!" The king almost roared with laughter. "Oh my, how wonderous! Bailetha is mostly extinct…we have heard nothing of them for almost a hundred years!" His eyes flicked to Peter. "My good boy, this is an elaborate lie of the imagination! Can't you see? She is merely a bored servant girl. She has nothing to lose—why not stir the pot?"

Edmund suddenly rose from his chair, a bit pink in the face and a flame in his eyes. Peter caught his eye and warned him without ever opening his mouth. Edmund clenched his jaw tightly as he glared at the king.

"Sire," he said, his voice calm despite the storm brewing in his eyes. "I pray you do not misjudge my brother's sources, nor my brother's own judgment. Peter's trust in Nell is enough for me, though it is not all. I assure you she is sincere—in fact, Oreius and I as well as the council have been sending messengers out ever since Nell's arrival. There are whispers of an oncoming army, every single day."

Peter watched Nell's eyes narrow and she sent Peter a look of anger—this news seemed to upset her greatly and he felt a bit guilty for not having spoke to her in private about this. It was true. Narnian messengers and the greatest of spies were sweeping the border and had even gone as far as the outskirts of Bailetha, and had seen with their own eyes the troops beginning to rally. He had thought it best that Nell did not know this information, but by the way she was glaring at him he suddenly wished he had shared.

The mocking laughter in Larce's eyes flickered a bit as he registered this news. He looked at Peter, something new brewing deep inside. There was scheming there, and Peter knew the storm was about to hit. Larce's eyes flicked from Nibora to Alba and back to Peter again. Peter felt the knot in his chest grow even tighter.

"Alright your majesty," Larce said in a low voice. "If what you say is true…_if_, I remind you…we may talk of aiding you."

There was a dead silence in the room in which Peter felt his breath give away.

A spark lighted in Larce's eyes. "Under one condition."

Peter felt his world begin to ebb away slowly. He felt Edmund stiffen, felt Susan suck in a sharp breath, felt Lucy whisper _"No"_. The only person who seemed to not understand what was coming was Nell. Peter watched as she looked around at his siblings' behavior confused, a bit of panic in her eyes, and then look to Peter, raising an eyebrow.

Peter could only clench his jaw.

"And what, your highness, might that one condition be?" Peter felt his voice low and raw, as he was desperate to mask his brooding anger. _Where are you Aslan? _He thought. There was no reply.

"You take my daughter's hand in marriage. Our kingdoms can then unite under a concrete alliance, and we will escort you into battle, no questions asked."

The room was thick and Peter felt like suffocating. He felt his blood boiling, and he had a strong desire to punch something, anything, to destroy anything and rip it to shreds. It took all his might to not display his anger, it took everything he had inside of him to appear calm and composed.

The room was silent and all Peter could hear was his heavy breathing. He looked up into Larce's challenging eyes and he felt as if he had lost. Lost everything. He was so furious he swore his skin was turning red.

"King Larce, I'm sorry, I thought we both knew that was out of the question." For a moment he swore Edmunds rage was now directed at him but he ignored his brother's scowl.

Larce's eyes held a challenge in them Peter had never seen before. "Then I'm afraid, young king, our help is out of the question as well."

Peter gripped the tops of his chair tightly, his knuckles turning white. "I don't think you understand," he almost growled. Edmund remained standing, as if bracing himself for a fight. "Narnia is not the only kingdom in danger. Bailetha will wipe out every kingdom all the way. Do you understand you are in danger as well?"

"Are you saying I am incapable of protecting my own kingdom?" Larce almost spit out.

"I'm saying this is much graver than you are anticipating."

"Please, all of you." A new voice caused Peter to turn to Lucy, who had gotten up and had a look of sadness and disappointment in her eyes. "Why must there be something in it for anyone? Why not helping friends when we are in danger?"

Larce's eyes flickered for only an instant before he regarded Peter's little sister with a patronizing glare.

"_Friends_ my dear child, is not what this is about." King Larce stood up abruptly, followed by his wife and daughter. There was a thick tension in the air and Peter had the distinct sensation of being kicked in the stomach. "We are through here. Come, Nibora, Alba, we must retreat before the hour gets any later."

Edmund shot Peter a look that screamed _Do something! _

"Larce," Peter said, his voice convicted of everything he was feeling. He was at a loss. An utter loss, and for a moment he was disgusted with himself. Should he marry Alba? What was he thinking? What was holding him back from marrying that woman? For some reason, when he procured the image of his wedding day, Alba was not his bride. He could not see Aslan marrying Peter to Alba. Deep in his heart he knew it wasn't right.

"I hoped this could have worked," Peter said at last, his voice grave. He felt defeated but strong.

"We hope a lot of things when we are young," Larce commented. And with that, the trio that seemed to hold the last ounce of hope was gone.

Peter felt prepared for the disappointment that was sure to follow Larce, but nothing prepared him for the smoldering look as Edmund whirled around, fury radiating off his body.

"What the _hell _was that Peter?" Ed's voice contained every ounce of anger, but was deadly smooth, like a volcano about to abrupt.

Peter felt his own anger prick at his brother's blatant mood. "Don't take that tone with me," he said in a dangerous voice as well. "You saw there was nothing to do."

Edmund let out a harsh laugh. "_Nothing _to do. _Nothing _to do? How about man up for once in your damn life and take a bride!"

Peter thought he would break his jaw from clamping down so hard. "It is not in Aslan's plan, Edmund. Do you not remember what happens when we don't follow Aslan?"

Peter caught Lucy's eye and in place of the reassurance he swore he would find, he found a hollow sadness. Why did he suddenly feel so alone?

"If you didn't notice dear _brother,_" Edmund snarled, spitting fire in his brother's direction. "Aslan isn't around anymore. Narnia is in danger, and Aslan isn't around. _We_ have to do something."

"Don't be thick," Peter retorted, feeling his temper rise. "Do you honestly think we can do this alone?"

"Brother, we _are _alone," Edmund breathed, no longer fire but a chilled ice to his voice. Deep beneath the rage Peter saw the helplessness in Edmund's eyes. Was Ed right? Were they truly alone?

Peter found he had no words to ease Ed. With a shake of his head, Edmund left the grand dining room, slamming his fist against the wall on the way out.

"He doesn't understand," Peter said, trying to remain calm but feeling more lost than ever. He turned toward his sisters. Susan and Lucy were looking at him with what he almost sensed as…_pity. _

"Peter, I'm afraid _you _don't understand," Susan said quietly. "Narnia, as we know it, might just cease to exist."

"I'm afraid we are terribly, terribly alone," Lucy said quietly.

For the first time in almost all the years of his reign, Peter felt farther away from the High King of Narnia than ever before.

* * *


	7. So Close

**Ay-yo! This is the fastest I've ever updates. This chapter is kinda long, just trying to get some stuff out there. I hope you all like it. I kinda have an idea where I want this to go, it's just hard executing it. Please, feedback would be great.**

**Next chapter: STAY TUNED! An appearance from the ever lovely Threylin, and of course Tomkin comes back! dun dun dun.................**

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The beauty never ceased to astound her.

That's what really made Nell go a little crazy. All she had to do was wake up in the morning, draw the magnificent curtains back to her balcony, and her breath was instantly knocked right out of her.

Oh yes, she could _definitely _get used to this.

But the beautiful morning was stained. This week had been terrible. Ever since that dreadful dinner a few nights ago, Nell had rarely seen any of the queens and kings of Narnia. She'd taken to eating her meals in the kitchen, chatting with the faun Nayla, the cook. She spent the days riding in the lush pastures, or reading in her bedroom. She missed spending her days with Lucy and Susan, but Narnia was in a bit of a chaotic state, and she understood the queens had bigger business to attend to. Whenever she would cross their paths their faces would light up and there would be a moment of regret when they apologized and flittered away, surrounded by councilmen and paperwork up to their necks.

All in all, she felt utterly useless.

Avoiding Peter hadn't helped at all. She was being petty, surely, and it was in moments like these that Nell truly felt younger than her eighteen years. Yet she couldn't help it—she was _angry. _Every time she thought of that dinner and the moment when she had found out Peter had been sending spies without so much as giving her the smallest of hints, something tiny boiled within her. The High King trusted her enough to take her word when his entire kingdom was in danger, but he couldn't even keep her updated on his plans? She knew she was being hypocritical. If she didn't want to feel so completely useless, the smart and _mature _thing to do would be to talk to the High King, but the seeds of stubbornness ran deep within her.

The gentle morning breeze played with Nell's wild hair and she felt a sense of unease. The lush, green hills caused an ache in her belly. There was no way that Narnia could be harmed—the magic was so alive Nell swore it could lift her away.

A gentle knock at her door caused her to burst out of her reverie. Turning slightly, she hesitated to answer. Deciding against her initial rude impulse, she called lightly, "Come in."

For a moment when the High King entered her chamber room, all bitterness melted away. It was the reaction Nell had with being in the same room and proximity of something so magnificent. She saw strength in Peter, but also an exhaustion that waned her anger only ever so slightly.

She _was_ being immature here, remember?

"Peter," she began, a hint of coldness in her tone. "Your highness… I was just…_going out_, my apologies."

She made to leave the room when Peter sent her a smirk that made her stop. "Is that why you're barefoot? Gone to wonder Narnia without so much as a pair of boots?"

Nell felt herself blushing and sighed. "I'd rather traipse about barefoot than have to talk with you right now."

She saw the irritation brewing in Peter's eye and wondered when she had grown so accustomed to speaking to a king in such a way? And why did it suddenly feel good to take this chance and lash out on Peter? Anger, she was realizing, was an addictive power and yet she had no idea how to put a leash on the beast.

"My lady," Peter replied coolly, leaning casually against the doorframe, blocking any sort of exit. Nell tried to focus on the fact that his hair looked a bit unruly and _not _the fact that his casual demeanor made him look terribly handsome. "You simply can't avoid me forever. I'm the King of this castle. I know every turn, every hidden passage. You really think you can just _hide _from me?"

Nell restrained the urge to purse her lips. After all, they were still a bit sore from that terrible bite.

"If I didn't know you better, which, unfortunately I do," Nell retorted. Peter's cocky smirk only made Nell angrier. "I would have to report you to your own council. Those seem to be the words of a crazed murderer or hunter. Absolutely _not _befitting to a king."

Peter snorted. "This coming from a lady who is no bigger than my thirteen year old sister."

Nell narrowed her eyes as the open breeze continued to play with the tips of her curls. "I don't want to talk to you," she said shortly, gazing out her window, smelling the sea. It was beckoning her, calling her away from this castle and these people with whom she did not belong.

"Nell," Peter said, and something in his tone caused her heart to lurch a little. He was no longer cocky and she turned to meet his eyes. There was apology in them, but pride too. "I should have kept you informed about our battle plans. I'm sorry."

"I'm obviously no help to you," Nell snapped. She shrugged angrily, wanting nothing more than to rip off her gown and run to the sea. She wished Tomkin were here more than anything. "Why should you keep me included? I'm just a servant girl, no matter how you may dress me up in these fancy dresses."

Nell made a move to get around Peter, (to go where, she was not quite sure), but he reached out his hand and held her firmly by the arm. Nell was surprised to see that his entire hand was large enough to go around the width of her arm. She suddenly felt her bravado slip away.

"You know none of us think of you as that," Peter said almost harshly. Nell glared up at him and Peter released her and Nell swore she saw a hint of laughter in his eyes. "Quit being such a brat."

"I am _not_ being a brat!" Nell hissed, and before she could stop herself she stuck her tongue out at the High King of Narnia. For a moment the pair just glared at one another, and then Peter shook his head, laughing.

"You really are being a little wench," Peter drawled, lazily leaning against the doorframe once again. Nell felt herself redden and let out an exasperated sigh. She knew she was being foolish but her pride didn't let her give in _so _easily.

"That's not a very nice thing to say Peter," Nell muttered. She turned toward the window, closing her eyes.

She heard Peter give a small growl of frustration. "Nell, it's either you forgive me now and we move on, or you continue to bask in your anger and learn nothing of our battle plans."

Nell chewed this over for a minute. "What is happening?"

Peter rubbed the back of his neck and once again Nell felt herself becoming distracted by just how _cute_ this made him look. What the hell was wrong with her? One minute she was avoiding the King, wishing she'd never stepped in Narnia, and the next she was acting like a silly little girl who had never been in the presence of a handsome fellow before! She suddenly remembered his soft touch over her lip all those nights ago and she felt quite warm. Would Peter think it strange if she opened the large window a bit more?

"Threylin's troops are growing every day," Peter said gravely, coming over to stand beside Nell as the two of them stepped onto her balcony. "We have been growing in numbers, but we are still significantly smaller than Threylin's army. We have only days before they attack." There was a heavy silence between them and Nell was unsure of what to say. Peter looked down at Nell, who bit her lip nervously.

"Hey," he muttered, cupping her chin with his hand. Involuntarily her heart began to speed up but the fear of impending doom seemed to suffocate any butterflies that may have been fluttering in her belly. "Don't go biting your lip again. I think you've bled enough. Besides, scabbed lips are not a good look for you."

Nell rolled her eyes, pushing his hand away. "You say that like anything is a good look for me." He smirked, but only for a moment.

"I hate him," Nell seethed. "Bailetha is a cruel place." Then, in a small voice, she murmured, "I wish I had never been born there."

"I have faith in Narnia," Peter said firmly, turning toward Nell. She looked skeptically up at him, but once their eyes locked she knew. She had this strange sensation in the pit of her stomach that everything was going to be perfectly fine—that Narnia would not be exterminated.

She wanted to shake the feeling off but something in Peter made her feel secure. He was looking down at her as if he had something else to say but no words came out. The breeze was tickling her ear and she was captivated by his brilliant blue eyes. Perhaps they were looking at one another a minute too long, for Peter coughed and turned away, scratching the back of his head.

"Still mad at me then?" He had a playful glimmer in his eye and Nell couldn't stand to harbor anger any longer.

"No," she said begrudgingly. Peter offered her a smile then; one she happily returned.

* * *

"So it's final then. We leave for battle in two day's time."

Susan couldn't help but suck in a breath. She really tried to keep it in; after all, she'd been through this several times before. Battle and bloodshed was a part of their life here in Narnia, but that didn't make it any easier to stomach. She looked around the council room, taking in the faces of every creature, every noblemen, every person. How many of them would be dead by the end of the week? How many families, wives, mothers and sisters would mourn for their loved ones?

She suddenly felt physically ill.

Peter was standing at the head of the table, looking around at his council with Edmund and Orieus on either side of him. She saw him give a furtive glance to Nell, who shot him a look back, unreadable to Susan (though she had the distinct feeling that single look held an abyss of worth). Something moved deep within her; Peter gravitated toward the girl, whether he was aware of it or not. Susan just wondered how long it would be until they both noticed it. She really liked Nell…and it couldn't hurt if Peter finally decided to settle down. The council would probably throw a glee fit….Susan shook her racing matchmaking thoughts out of her head. She had a bit of a tendency to get carried away, even in the midst of war.

She caught her elder brother's eye. In the flickering of the firelight in the dark room, she knew he looked haunted.

"Susan," he began, and she locked her jaw, bravely looking in his eyes. "Edmund and I have both agreed that you should not aid us in battle."

"No!" Susan's immediate instinct kicked in. Was Peter _insane?_ They needed every soldier they could muster! "No, Peter, that's ridiculous—"

"It has been decided Su," Peter said calmly. "We have prepared an army with confidence. You will stay here with Lucy for the time being."

Susan felt herself fuming inside, but kept her mouth shut. She yearned to fight alongside her brothers—she simply _had _to. Her and Lucy had both fought before, but the look in Peter's eyes was enough to silence her entirely.

"We will travel north until we cross over the border of Narnia," Peter explained to all in the room, everyone listening with keen ears. "If the information which we have been gathering indeed is true, we should meet Threylin's troops just south of the border. It is _here_ where we shall fight."

* * *

Peter missed the sun.

He hadn't seen daylight in quite a few days.

It was really starting to aggravate the King. His mind was swimming with images of the vast open sky, the rocky cliffs and the lush, green pastures. He craved the salty ocean, he wanted the droplets to cling to his skin until he was nothing more than a floating particle amidst the deep blue.

Instead he was clogged in his study, pouring and pouring over battle strategy after battle strategy. His hair was on end. His tunic was wrinkly. Probably smelly, too. He craved a warm bath and cold water. The plush confines of his large bed. But they left for battle tomorrow, and there was still terribly too much to get done.

"Look like you could use a break, mate."

Peter looked up when Edmund spoke and thought his brother could take a bit of his own advice. They were both exhausted. Peter imagined he mirrored Edmund; messy hair, bloodshot eyes, the beginnings of dark circles just below the eyes. He offered his younger brother a smirk.

"Worn out already Ed?" Edmund just rolled his eyes and stretched back his long, lean muscles, letting out a yawn. His eyes suddenly grew bright. Peter knew that look well. It was the adrenaline of a fight approaching, the quickening of the pulse, the pumping of the blood. Though it was always a dreadful thing, battle _was _exciting. There was something amazing about defending your country. Especially when it was _your _country.

"It's been far too long since I've held a sword against a foe," Edmund said, a bit of an edge to his voice. Oreius looked up from his spot in the corner where he had been discussing with a group of the finest centaur warriors some new fighting strategies with several gleaming sabers.

"Perhaps that is a good thing sire," Oreius said, a gentle look in his eye.

"Perhaps," Edmund agreed lightly. He stared into his hands and then shrugged. "I don't _enjoy _battle. But I want nothing more than to keep Narnia safe. _No one_ or _nothing _shall prevent that."

The pale glimmer of moonlight cast odd shadows in the room and Peter realized it was getting extremely late. If they wanted to make good time to the north tomorrow, they had all better get to bed. He dismissed his army leaders and centaurs, and found himself walking side by side with Edmund, toward their chambers.

They passed Nell's door and Peter hesitated. He had been meaning to talk to her—there had been scarcely a minute when he wasn't strategizing or rounding up soldiers, so he hadn't even seen her since the meeting the previous night when he had announced they were going to leave for battle. He had wanted to assure her once more that she would be safe.

"You care for her, don't you?" Edmund was looking at Peter with this knowing look that made Peter squirm.

"I dunno what you're talking about," Peter muttered, hating how his younger brother was so perceptive. You would never think Edmund could read someone, but the young man could surprise you sometimes. Especially when you least expected it.

"It's okay Pete, to you know, _like _a girl," Edmund teased. "Every maiden in Narnia and surrounding lands are dying to have you even notice them. Hell, if I were you, I'd have a field day."

Peter rolled his eyes. "There are more important things than courting a woman."

"You mean less scarier things," Edmund said smartly, and ducked just in time for Peter's swing to his head.

"D'ya really want me to behead you _before _battle?" Peter asked, laughing when Ed took a fighting stance in the middle of the dark hallway. Edmund had a playful gleam in his eye. They were both delirious with fatigue.

"Come on Pete," Edmund started. "A little practice before we head out tomorrow. You think you're so much stronger than me."

"I _am _stronger than you," Peter pointed out, heading to tackle his brother. It was so hard to walk away from a fight, even a silly one with your brother. The boys struggled with one another in the hall, playfully wrestling and trying to get the other one to fall to the ground. It was like they were kids all over again, instead of men ruling a country. It was in these moments that sometimes Peter thought of England with what almost resembled homesickness.

"Do you two realize it's almost three in the morning?"

Nell's groggy voice caused the men to stop tackling one another. They hadn't been paying much attention to their volume and were just outside Nell's door. Peter could have sworn he was flushing, but was grateful for the darkness. How silly he felt losing his cool in front of Nell, of all people!

He straightened up to his full height, trying to regain some sort of composure and authority back. Edmund chuckled.

"Ask Pete here for an apology," Edmund remarked, clapping his brother on the shoulder. "He thinks it is appropriate to have a wrestling match right outside the doors of sleeping maidens, apparently."

Peter gave his brother a shove on the shoulder. "Oy, get out of here." Edmund threw Nell a charming smile and then headed off to his bedroom, hands in pockets. Peter shook his head.

"My apologies," Peter said. He looked at Nell and inwardly grinned. Her hair was tousled from sleep and her eyes were puffy. Before he could stop himself, an image of Nell, lying in bed, her wild curls spread all about her pillows with Peter beside her popped into his mind. He suddenly felt warm all over and blamed it on the late night.

"Shouldn't you be sleeping?" Nell asked softly, her voice muddled with sleep and a bit hoarse. "Tomorrow is a big day."

Peter shrugged. "Sleep is overrated. I'm sorry Ed and I were being buffoons, we didn't mean to disturb you."

She grunted most unladylike, and tucked some hair behind her ear. "Well now I'll never be able to get back to sleep. Thank you, I truly appreciate this." Peter smirked, remembering how cranky Nell gets when she does not sleep. He found it quite amusing—she reminded him of some sort of little woodland creature, especially when she was angry. (He did not think she would appreciate this so he kept it to himself).

"So dramatic," Peter sighed. "I guess you'll just have to let me in then."

Nell's eyes widened in mockery and she threw him a criticizing look. "Your majesty! How uncouth, inviting yourself in a lady's room in the middle of the night. What will the castle think?"

Peter barked out a laugh, passing Nell and entering her room a bit arrogantly. "Please, don't flatter yourself."

"I wish Edmund had hit you a little harder in the head," Nell commented, closing her door slowly. Peter noticed her hesitation and for a minute thought he should just leave…_was_ this inappropriate? He only wanted to talk to her about their battle plans; it wasn't as if he was going to act out his little image from earlier…as much as he wanted to…

_Get a hold of yourself Peter!_ He blazed in his head. This is exactly why he avoided courting any woman—it posed all sorts of distractions in your head. And _Nell_ of all women. She was barely a woman at all! He didn't even think she was that beautiful, if she could be considered beautiful at all. Yet he had to admit he loved looking at her; she was captivating in the strangest way, especially when she was aggravated. (Though Peter rather die than say this aloud).

They stood facing each other a bit awkwardly until Nell plopped down on an upholstered chair by the fireplace. Peter came over, leaning against the fireplace, sticking his hands in his pockets.

"Are you nervous?" She asked, looking up into his eyes. He wondered bizarrely how many eyelashes she had.

"For what?" He asked nonchalantly. Peter definitely felt a bit nervous but he was pretty sure Threylin's plan to take over his entire kingdom was only _part_ of it...

"To leave your kingdom tomorrow," Nell explained. "And your sisters. Won't they be worried sick?"

Peter shrugged. "We've been through this before, my sisters know what the drill is. And I can't very well sit around here, hoping Narnia will be protected by sheer magic. It's my duty Nell, our kingdom's duty."

Nell picked at the hem of her nightgown and Peter thought the moonlight filtering in through the window made her look lovelier than he'd ever seen her. He realized she wasn't nearly as bony as when she'd first arrived in Narnia. Nell seemed to have curves after all, and he couldn't deny he didn't mind them. Suddenly he didn't want to leave tomorrow…he would have liked to have a few more days to spend with the girl.

"Peter?" Her voice was small and for the first time since they'd met Peter thought it matched her physique.

She looked at him a bit shyly, and he swore she was blushing. "Why don't you like Princess Alba?"

Peter was taken aback by the sudden change in conversation. He quirked an eyebrow. "How do you mean?"

Nell shrugged, looking like she chewing over the right words to say. "What is so bad about marrying her? She is beautiful. She is a princess. She isn't a murderer…"

Pete laughed, leaning lazily against the fireplace, sticking a hand in his pocket. He shrugged, and not wanting to sounds too sappy or too much like a nancy boy he replied, "I dunno. Don't love her is all."

"But…but couldn't you _grow _to love her?" Nell looked confused and Peter thought about this seriously. Could you grow to love someone? In time, perhaps…how could Peter explain to Nell that he was trusting completely in a lion she had never seen nor even heard of. She would think him absolutely crazy. But it was the truth…he knew in his heart Aslan didn't want Peter to take Alba for his bride.

"Sometimes," Peter started, carefully choosing his words. "You have to trust in something greater than your own judgment."

"But…" Peter wondered when Nell had gotten so curious and opinionated. He rather liked it. She was challenging him, and he always did enjoy a good challenge. "But Edmund thinks you should have married her. That judgment is not your own…and Larce and Nibora certainly seemed to think you an imbecile."

Peter shot Nell a dark look. "Thank you Nell for that kind reminder." Nell just smirked here, but didn't say anything. Peter took a breath.

"I don't mean _human _judgments," Peter explained. "I mean a greater power…a greater being that can see much farther than our own human perceptions."

"Like what?" Nell asked. She was looking up at Peter so intently now that he couldn't tear his gaze away even if he tried. Should Peter share about Aslan with her? Would she think him foolish, even stupid for trusting in a lion? But she didn't know…she had no idea of his power and his justice and his wisdom and his unfailing love. Peter loved Aslan so much, he realized, how could he _not _share him with Nell?

"Aslan," he said simply.

"Aslan?" She tried the name on her tongue and Peter liked hearing her say it.

"Have you ever..." he trailed off, searching for the words. The words that would never do the great lion complete justice. "Your friend Tomkin, you're close to him, yes?"

Nell nodded. "He's my very best friend."

Okay…Peter could work with this. "And that means you trust him." Nell nodded. "Completely. The way I trust my brother and sisters. That amazing, unbelievable confidence. I dunno about Tomkin, but I feel like my brother and sisters will always love me even when I make mistakes."

Nell was silent and seemed to be deep in thought. Peter took this as confidence to keep going. "Well… Aslan…he's the greatest lion that has ever lived. And he is a best friend to everyone—even…even you, though you've never met him. He loves you because he loves all. And he'll always love us and _always _forgive us, even when we betray him or one another, even when we fall lower than we could ever imagine. His love is never ending."

Nell was silent for a minute but Peter didn't know how to continue. Finally, she looked up at him and Peter thought he saw tears in her eyes, but that could have been the moonlight.

"I would like to know someone like that," Nell murmured. "I've never known someone like that. I didn't think that existed."

Peter felt the sadness in her voice and he didn't like it. He came over and knelt in front of Nell, putting both his hands on either side of her chair. He gave her a smile.

"You can know him. Anyone can. You just have to believe."

"I don't know _how_," Nell said softly. "I feel like I don't know how to do anything, Peter. How could someone so…amazing…want anything to do with me? I don't even know who my parents are, I've never known anything about myself except for my name. I'm…I'm nothing, Peter."

Peter captured her eyes and looked into them. He saw the sense of being lost that was so prevalent in Nell and something inside him moved. He placed a gentle hand on her cheek, and forced her to look at him. He offered her a small smile.

"I don't think that is true at all," he murmured. Suddenly the realization hit him.

They were close.

Very, very close. He began to feel warm all over and immediately withdrew his hand, standing up. He ignored the confused look in Nell's eye. _Damn it! _He cursed in his head. Why couldn't he control his foolish actions? How very inappropriate it was of him to feel so…so…_attracted_ to Nell when she was pouring her heart out! If it was any other time…any other place…

No.

Love, a woman…these were things a King could just not afford to have, no matter how deeply he craved them. They simply invited weakness in, and one thing Peter could most definitely not afford was to be weak.

"Er," he said lamely, and Nell stood up, turning away from him.

"You should really get some sleep," he said, deciding it was best if he just left before he did something really stupid that he would regret in the morning. The late night always made him a bit rash.

"Right," Nell muttered. Peter walked over to the door, feeling the ebbings of regret already alive within him. He didn't _want _to leave. He _did _want to perhaps find out just how comfortable Nell's bed really was (It looked quite nice, he couldn't help but notice), but he knew all of these things had a time and a place and neither was at three in the morning the eve before heading into a bloody battle.

"I will see you tomorrow at the send off," Peter said. There was a thick awkwardness in the air neither seemed able to shake off.

"Right," Nell muttered again. She turned away, and Peter took this moment to slip out of her room before either could say (or do) another thing.

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	8. And So It Starts

**GAH! So this is _terribly _short, I'm aware. I'm used to writing much, much longer chapters. But I feel that there is just so much going on right now at this point in the story and I didn't want to just squeeze it into one chapter. I hope you all enjoy and I really hope Peter is staying in character. Thank you so much to all who read this, to the amazing reviews....you all are my inspiration to keep writing!!!! Thank you again, and please, feedback is welcome!!! (Even flamers! I promise I won't go, like, sob in a corner and burn all my writing...Negative feedback is always welcome, I assure you!) Anyways.....here's the next chappy.**

**PS yay for summer! All of my free time is due to summer, so that is why these updates have been so frequent. :) But don't get used to it...I'm heading back to NYC for an internship on Sunday, so my free time will be dramatically cut short. But anyways, enough of my babbling....:)**

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He was dying, for sure.

Never, in all twenty years of his existence, did Tomkin ever feel pain such as this. His body was tearing in two—there was no other explanation. He could feel himself begin to slip away, away, away, the darkness was ever creeping into his skull, his lungs were bloody and heavy, he was mere seconds away from total collapse.

"Answer the question boy, or that lanky body of yours will be split in _two._"

Tomkin ground his teeth. He had no idea how much more he could take of this torture. The voice was low and gravelly and sounded far away, though he was sure it was coming from the same room. He couldn't figure out where, his vision was almost completely gone, blurred from the excruciating agony. He didn't remember how he got here, had no idea whether it was day or not, there was nothing but pain, pain, pain, everywhere, always, _pain…_

"I…she…" his throat felt as if it was going to cave in on itself. His hands, tied high above him (onto what he was not quite sure) began to twitch from the numbing sensation that was crawling up his spine. He couldn't finish his sentence and in return got a thick blow to the head.

There were footsteps which through his fuzzy state of mind he could make out. Two men were in the room, he knew there were two of them, neither he had ever seen before. Rewlian men, the darkest human beings known to man.

"Where did the girl go?"

It was a snake in his ear, the voice curling around the sound waves just outside Tomkin's level of pain. _Nell. _They were talking about Nell. He couldn't think straight, where was Nell? It had been weeks since she'd been gone, why now, why had they struck him out now? He was terribly confused.

"Gone," he muttered through bloody lips. It was the truth. Nell was gone for all he knew, he hadn't heard from her since she made that wild escape. He just wanted the pain to stop, he wanted to die, dying right now would be good, he thought oddly peacefully.

There was a murmur and then a heavy pounding, as if someone was about to knock the door down (was there a door? _Where the hell was he?_).

"Your majesty," the snake's voice hissed. Threylin. King Threylin was in the room…_Oh please let me die, _Tomkin thought desperately. How had he gotten mixed up in this?

Stables.

That is something he did remember. The stables, he had been cleaning in the stables, like always, feeding a ripe carrot to Kiche, and then the next thing he knew was darkness and then pain…so much bloody pain.

"Has the little rat spoken?" Threylin asked.

"He says he does not know where the girl has gone," the snake growled. "Perhaps he is a liar. Perhaps, sire, we should just finish him off here." There was the sound of blade against blade and Tomkin vaguely thought that if he had anything in his stomach it would have surely left by now.

"A liar, for sure," Threylin drawled, suspiciously low and dangerous. Tomkin thought that must be what the devil sounded like. Purely sick.

There was a pause.

"But I think I have a mission for him. With perhaps a fate worse than death."

The last thing Tomkin heard before he passed out cold from the pain was empty, hollow laughter.

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Nell felt like punching the sun.

It was simply not welcome today. How could the sun shine when today was the darkest she had ever felt? Much to her whining, Talia (the faun who had bathed her on her very first night in Narnia) had dressed Nell in a cream colored dress, plaiting her dark locks in a spectacular braid with a matching cream colored ribbon weaved throughout. She had protested, but Talia insisted that she was sick of seeing Nell wander the castle with her wild curls flouncing out like a mad woman. "Besides," Talia had coolly murmured, finishing tying the ribbon. "The High King loves the color cream…but you didn't hear that from me!"

Once Nell's rapidly growing blush had ceased and Talia had long been on her way, she had finally decided to emerge from her room. The kings and their army were leaving precisely at noon. Nell dreaded the next two hours with a growing pit in her stomach. Part of her wanted to just avoid the farewell ceremony. It was a dreadful feeling, she realized, having to say goodbye to Peter. When would she see him again?

Nell liked all of the queens and kings equally, but she felt closest to Peter. He had become something of a best friend to her, a kind of security. And now he was ripped away to battle, just as she was truly feeling comfortable in this foreign, beautiful place.

As Nell made her way to the stables, deciding the cool air and the familiar smell might ease some of her nerves, she thought how funny it was that only a month ago she was sleeping in a bug infested cot in the dank kitchens of a cruel kingdom. How tricky fate seemed to be.

And yet she had no idea where her fate was leading her. Was it to stay here, in Narnia? Was it back in Bailetha? Or, she thought with a shudder, was it the cold, firm hand of death?

_Aslan._

The name whispered in her mind over and over again, ever since her conversation last night with Peter. She couldn't stop thinking about the lion and she had never even met him! She had never felt this craving before, this _longing _to want to know someone so deeply. She yearned for a relationship with a lion she never even knew existed before last night.

The cool wind felt good on her face as she made her way out of the castle and to the stables. There was a buzz in the wind, all around. She purposely avoided the areas of the castle and the castle grounds where the army was preparing to leave. She could hear the clamor and excitement, but she didn't want to go anywhere near it. She honestly didn't think she could face Peter right then, or stomach the sight of all those men, all those creatures preparing for their doom.

The stables were calm; possibly the only tranquil place left in Narnia. Most of the horses were gone, decorated and prepared for battle, convening with the soldiers in the foyer of the grounds. Nell walked up and down the stables, searching for any animal left at all.

She heaved a great sigh when she realized she was alone.

Walking out of the stables, she decided some shade might do her a bit of good. She walked along the rolling hills until she reached an open meadow by a trickling stream. Kicking off her boots, she wiggled her toes free and spread her arms wide, absorbing the sunlight and growing lazy with the heat.

There was the sound of a snapping twig behind her and Nell jumped, letting a small shriek escape her lips.

"I didn't mean to frighten you," Peter said, coming through the green grass, a small smile on his face. He stuck his hands in his pockets. He wasn't dressed for battle yet, just a light blue tunic and some riding trousers, and for this Nell was grateful. She didn't want any reminders of what was to come in only a few short hours.

"Do you always sneak up behind unsuspecting ladies?" Nell asked, quirking an eyebrow. She put her hands on her hips, trying to steady the sunspots she was now seeing.

"_Ladies? _No. Little gnome sprites? Yes," Peter teased, laughing when Nell glared at him. He stopped a few short feet away from Nell and she couldn't help but itch with discomfort. Something had shifted between them; she noticed it last night when he had made his awkward leave.

"I am _not_ a little gnome sprite," Nell said indignantly.

"That's debatable," Peter shrugged. Nell just rolled her eyes, leaning against the bark of the tree, actually grateful toward Talia for braiding her hair so nicely. It was a rather hot day and she was glad her thick mane wasn't a menace.

There was a thick silence between them. Peter stood before her, hands in his pockets as Nell leaned against the tree, bending one foot back behind her. Peter spotted her boots abandoned a few feet away.

"Getting a little comfortable eh?" He commented, trying to lighten the heavy feeling. The wind was having a field day with his hair and Nell found this terribly distracting. "_Very _ladylike Nell."

Nell just crinkled her nose at the High King. "I _am_ a lady. With manners. Unlike you, who thinks it's perfectly polite to wrestle outside of my door, wake me up, and proceed to keep me up so I don't get any sleep."

"Don't pretend you didn't enjoy it," he said, an air of arrogance caking voice. But his teasing eyes were playful. Peter smiled softly and Nell found herself smiling back. "Er…" Peter trailed off and Nell looked at him curiously.

He kicked a pebble on the ground and squinted up at the sky. "We're leaving soon."

Nell reached up and grabbed a leaf, plucking it and twisting it around in her hands until it stained her fingers green. "I know."

"You'll be safe here," Peter assured her, taking a few steps closer. "With Susan and Lucy. The castle will be heavily guarded."

Nell nodded, looking up into Peter's eyes. "It's not my safety I'm worried about," she told him.

A look passed over his face that Nell didn't understand. It was a moment of openness, where for once Peter didn't seem to have everything so collected, so guarded. But in a flash it was gone and the regality was back and the calm, collected, ever cool Peter was back.

Peter gave her a serious look, a sting of pride on his face. "I've done this plenty before, nothing will happen to me."

"I was talking about Edmund. I'll miss him dearly."

"Right, I'll let him know."

Nell felt triumphant when laughter bubbled in his voice, grateful for the graveness to be washed away. Ugh! She could _not _do this. She didn't want to say goodbye, hated how there was this unspeakable tension between them. What did it all mean? Why was he avoiding her eyes, looking everywhere but directly at her?

"I…" Screw it. She wasn't seeing him for God knows how long. "I wish you didn't have to go Peter."

"I wish I didn't have to leave," he said in a low voice. His eyes flicked over her and she suddenly felt terribly warm. "Especially when you look so nice. Why do you wait until you won't see me for awhile to finally start looking like a girl?"

Nell made to punch him in the shoulder but Peter caught her fist. The contact surprised her, the warmth of his hand engulfing her own. His eyes widened slightly at the warmth as well, and she knew she had to be blushing.

"You're a brute," she snapped, wondering why Peter hadn't let go of her hand.

"Some find that endearing," he teased, smiling when Nell blushed even deeper. Then he grew quiet, and dropped her hand. Why was she suddenly overcome with disappointment?

"When will you come back?" Nell asked in a small voice, catching Peter's eye.

"It's hard to say," he said, reaching to the side of her and playing with the tree bark. Nell's breathing involuntarily sped up and her heart was sent a flutter. She tried her best to remain at ease, but honestly, whom did Peter think he was, getting so close to her and smelling so nice… "Weeks, months…" He shrugged. "A year. It's quite difficult to say."

Nell wanted to say something, ask if him if he'd at least write to her once in awhile, keep her updated on Narnia's status, but she was having a hard time finding her voice. Why did this feel so…permanent?

"Nell," he began, uncertainly. "I…"

"Yes?" She asked, lightly. Really, he was so very close that she swore he heard her heart beating rapidly.

Peter looked as if he was wrestling the urge to do something. He reached up and tugged lightly on her braid.

"I should be going," he said, a tinge of regret in his voice. Nell could visibly feel the cloak of disappoint that was thrown around her shoulders. But honestly, what did she expect? Some miraculous goodbye, for Peter to sweep her off her feet like some chivalric hero?

No. _Not at all. _

He was the High King of Narnia! Every woman was in love with him, swooned over his incredible looks, so why in the world would she ever believe he might even give her the time of day? He was nothing short of perfect. Always kind, always strong, always so _together._ It was all so very silly indeed. She felt a little pride in her swell up. Besides, why would she just want to fall into the masses? She refused to join the ranks of the mindless women who practically fainted every time Peter so much as gave them a grin. And yet…blastit! He was so terribly charming.

Then, very carefully, Peter leaned in and pressed his lips gently to her cheek, just above her jaw. There was a moment when both of them froze, Peter's large hand placed gently on her waist, his other hand on the tree bark beside her, his lips at the sensitive skin just before her ear, and Nell almost died. The warmth from his body radiated into her, she could feel every one of his muscles, feel him breathing up and down, up and down, the heat from his hand burning through her dress…and then all too fast he pulled away, told her she had a leaf in her hair, gave her the most charming grin she had ever seen, and told her he'd see her at the farewell ceremony.

And just like that he was gone, off to the castle.

Nell was pretty sure her heart might just explode out of her chest as she let out a ragged sigh, hands searching for the leaf that had fallen into her plait. Oh, this was not good at all. Falling for the High King of Narnia was most inconvenient. Especially, she realized with a pit in her stomach, since she had no idea when she was going to see him next. If she was going to see him at all.

Oh, terribly inconvenient indeed.

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She really looked pretty and that made leaving all the worse.

Peter was mounted on his horse, dressed in his chain mail, and had just finished giving his rallying 'going off to war' speech. Hundreds of Narnians were crowded outside the castle as Peter, heading the army, Edmund and Orieus to either side of him, ended to a thunderous, enthusiastic applause.

He spotted her immediately. She was standing next to his sisters, toward the front of the crowd, and his eyes locked with hers—those beautiful, shattering blue eyes that pierced him. She looked devastatingly adorable in her cream dress with that ribbon and Peter really hated how she had this affect over him.

It was his little secret of sorts.

They locked eyes and he couldn't pull away. Even as Edmund yelled for the troops to round up, and the procession began, he couldn't stand to pull his eyes away. He wanted to reach for her, to feel her soft skin against his lips just once more. What had happened (more what he had done when he couldn't fight the urge any longer, though it had been a much tamer version of what he truly had been thinking) by the tree was just a tease, a mere tease and now he was gone, gone, gone, leaving her unsure of when he would return.

It was kind of funny, Peter reasoned, as troops began to leave the kingdom behind and he forcefully snapped down his helmet, finally tearing his gaze away from Nell. It was funny, indeed, because they were merely friends. Chaps. Mates. Confidants. Nothing even closely resembling anything romantic. He refused to look back at her again; Peter needed her out of his mind, he needed to _concentrate._

He needed to win. The fate of Narnia rested wearily on his shoulders and he felt the usual battle rage began to boil his blood. Peter loved his people and his kingdom almost as much as he loved Aslan and his family. There was simply no way an old, evil, _treacherous _man could take Narnia away from him.

He looked over at Edmund, who caught his eye. Edmund nodded once, trotting beside his brother. Peter felt a surge of gratitude toward Edmund, amazed at how much the boy had grown. In fact, he wasn't a boy anymore at all, but a strong young man. For a moment a touch of quiet sadness ebbed into Peter's heart, and he thought of his sisters. What if Peter or Edmund didn't come back? What if they were all to be separated, never to live all together again?

Peter longed to hear Aslan's voice again, longed for a concrete guidance. But as much as he listened to the whispers of the wind, he found it was ominously quiet.

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	9. Season of Waiting

**Goodness! So this is an ACTUAL update. Wowwww. I know it's short. It's kind of like that one chapter to get me going again...trust me, there is plenty of action coming up! And I promise, promise faster updates. This time has just been terrible for me...but I realized writing is one of the few things that makes me feel so much better so I really need to continue it.**

**Enjoy. I apologize if it is not up to standards but writing this is helping my inspiration flow back. Thank you everyone for your most kind reviews and for still believing in this story! I hope you enjoy.**

**Also, I double apologize for grammatical errors. Haven't looked over this...too exhausted. I think I need a Beta reader. Anyone know how to go about getting one? Hmmm.**

**Anyways, Love & Strawberries. Enjoy.

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In all her eighteen years of existence Nell had never known what is was to miss another human being before. Ever. As she sat in the courtyard of Narnia, the creeping autumn breeze dancing with her dark curls, she felt a hollowness curl around her middle and realized for the first time in her life what it was to truly miss someone.

It was not very pleasant.

It had been exactly one week since Peter and Edmund and the troops of Narnia had departed. A mere week; seven days, one hundred and sixty eight minutes. Seven times Nell had seen the sunset and the sunrise and seven painfully long, lonely, consistently anguished days had passed. Each day Nell awoke with the hope of a promise; the hope of some kind of word that would come from either brother. She asked Susan and Lucy every day but _nothing_. Not even a whisper from a bird, there was absolutely not a clue as to where they were or what the status was. Though both queens assured her they would inform her in the very first second they received word from their brothers, Nell was not easily appeased.

The past week had been sheer torture. Nell found her appetite to be something of little consequence; the magic of Narnia seemed to have been tainted with a sense of foreboding that she could not shake off. Nell knew she was not alone. Whenever she would spend a meal with the queens, or enjoying the very last bit of sunshine with Lucy by the stream, she would catch a glimpse of the anxiety and heartache that plagued the sisters. Nell had only known Peter and Edmund for a few weeks—she could simply not imagine the pain Lucy and Susan, bound to their brothers by more than just blood—were feeling. It must be breaking them a part.

And yet she knew the girls were somewhat used to this. And there was another element in the equation—Susan's fury. While she had been well-mannered at the send off and council meetings, the gentle queen had shown Nell a side of herself she was not aware existed. Susan was positively fuming at the fact that she was not at battle with her brothers. When this conversation would come alive, Nell really could offer nothing more than a mere nod. She had no idea what to say on occasions such as these.

"I just do _not _understand my brothers sometimes," Susan said tightly as she aimed her bow and arrow at its target, releasing her grip and hitting it spot on. Nell's eyes widened as she watched the queen, holding her own bow and arrow a bit unsurely. Ever since Susan had offered to teach her to use the weapon she'd been rather excited but had quickly learned she was positively miserable at it.

Nell had merely mumbled something about boys that was quite incoherent, hoping to change the subject.

But that had been days ago, and now as Nell sat alone in the empty courtyard she curled her knees up against her. It was a lonely and gray afternoon; Nell hadn't seen Lucy or Susan yet today and she desperately wished for their company. She was soon realizing the more and more time she spent alone, the more and more her mind went positively reeling. And it all had to do with one word:

_Peter. _

Ever since their goodbye and that one blissful moment by the tree that was now permanently branded into her mind Nell could not stop thinking about the High King. She felt incredibly foolish and yet something pulled distinctly hard on her heart every time she passed the door to his bed chamber, or his name left the lips of his sisters, or his gentle grin passed through her mind. Now that he was no longer in her presence at the current moment, it was as if every single conversation they'd ever had kept replaying in her mind.

One in particular stood out to her and was one that she couldn't seem to grasp. The conversation that took place the night before Peter left for battle, the one revolving around this _Aslan_ figure.

Ever since Peter had described to her the wonderment of such a being Nell's mind had been reeling. Everywhere she went she searched for a sign of Aslan (of course she had _no_ idea what she was looking for so all in all it was a futile effort). Her ears pricked every time a gush of wind whispered in her ear or a creak roused her from her slumber late into the night. Ultimately she felt quite foolish searching for someone who she was almost positive had no idea she even existed let alone would actually want to know her.

And yet her heart ached in a way she had never felt before every time she thought of this Aslan, wherever he was in the world.

"That somber look has grown familiar on your face and I have to say it does not suit you."

Nell looked up quickly from where she was perched in the courtyard and saw Lucy coming toward her, a gentle smile on her face. Immediately Nell felt herself calm down, as if every nerve in her body dissipated into the atmosphere, forever gone away.

"Is it that obvious?" Nell asked, watching as Lucy sat beside her on the cold stone bench, the quickly approaching autumn wind dancing with the young queen's brown hair.

"That you are absolutely miserable without Peter here and can't stop thinking about him?" Lucy asked. Her straightforward tone caused Nell to immediately blush.

Coughing, Nell tried in vain to cover up her embarrassment. "I have no idea what you are talking about," she said, diverting her gaze from the far too observant queen. For a girl so young Queen Lucy was beyond intimidating.

But her boisterous laugh only caused Nell to sigh, a small smirk playing at her lips. Lucy put a gentle hand on top of Nell's, once more causing her to completely calm down.

"You can't honestly tell me it is Edmund that has got you so sad this past week," Lucy said cryptically.

Nell sighed, her stomach churning in a way that she was simply not used to.

"Of course I am frightened for the entirety of the army," she told Lucy. She paused, feeling the warmth of Lucy's small hand on her own and looked down. She realized their hands were practically the same size and with a pang in her gut Nell remembered how she was still nothing but a small servant girl that had no business being in this unbelievable kingdom.

She had no business caring for the High King of Narnia.

She felt Lucy shift and looked up. It was hard to read the expression on Lucy's face—a mixture of love, curiosity and sympathy. Three things Nell was not very familiar with in the face of someone looking at her.

"Nell? Would you mind very much if I spoke rather boldly right now?" Lucy's question hung in the air as Nell looked into her eyes.

Laughing a little, Nell shook her head. "Any bolder than you've already spoken? No, I wouldn't mind at all." The fact that a queen was asking Nell's permission to speak a certain way did not go unnoticed by Nell. Even though she'd been living in Narnia for almost a month it was still a foreign place to her. And although she'd take this magnificent world over Bailetha any day, she still did not feel like she belonged. In fact, she was pretty sure she didn't belong anywhere at all. How lonely her heart was at this very moment, even as she sat hand in hand with Lucy.

"You need to stop feeling so worthless and undeserving all of the time," Lucy told Nell conversationally, as if she was commenting on the weather. "It's a sad enough time as it is with the war, you don't need to go making yourself even more upset."

Nell frowned as she felt her throat burn and her cheeks flush with embarrassment. She wanted to hide away—who knew Nell would ever be intimidated by a girl years younger than her.

"Lucy," Nell began desperately trying to choose her words wisely. "I mean no offense—at all—but I feel that it is quite easy for you to say those things seeing as it is you are a queen. And not just a queen but a queen of this amazing land with an equally amazing family."

Lucy looked at Nell, listening deeply to her and Nell never for one moment felt as if she was being looked down upon at all. She could tell Lucy was weighing her words and Nell silently hoped that she hadn't overstepped a boundary of any kind with her words though she was glad she had spoke them. It was true—it must have been loads easier for Lucy to remain optimistic and happy with herself. Just look at her situation!

"Do I detect a bit of self pity?" Lucy questioned, and there was teasing in her eyes as her tone was not at all harsh. Nell was about to defend herself when Lucy continued to speak. "Nell, I know we have only known each other for a few short weeks, but you musn't feel as if you are not loved."

Nell's eyebrows rose in confusion. "What--?"

Lucy stood then, the wind making her gown billow around her and Nell thought she looked like a painting.

"I know I doubted my brother earlier about his choice to not ally with King Larce and Queen Nibora," Lucy began and Nell had no idea where she was going with this but she refused to voice such an opinion. "But I know now that what he is doing is the right choice. He is trusting in Aslan, and that is _always _the right choice."

Nell looked up at Lucy, watching as the sky behind the young queen continued to swirl in shades of ominous gray. Nell suddenly wished she was wearing something a bit warmer.

"You know of Aslan too?" Nell questioned, though really she supposed she shouldn't be too surprised. If Peter loved Aslan so much, then why wouldn't his brother and sisters know of such a creature as well? It only seemed to make sense of course.

Lucy smiled and it lit up her entire face. "Oh yes. I have known Aslan for many years and I know that he can never lead us into the wrong. Though my brothers have not always believed that."

"What do you mean?" Nell's curiosity was most definitely flaring. "Peter told me about Aslan and his unfailing justice and love. It didn't seem as if Peter would ever think against Aslan."

Lucy sat down, looking deep into Nell's eyes and Nell couldn't help but shudder. She realized as Lucy peered into Nell that the young queen was far wiser and older than her actual years. There was no way a normal thirteen year old could look so deeply into Nell's very soul. It simultaneously disturbed her and left her in awe. What exactly had these queens and kings of Narnia seen and experienced? It was as if they were from another world altogether.

"Peter, Susan, Edmund and myself are not originally from Narnia you know," Lucy said as if answering Nell's hidden question. Nell's mouth fell open.

"What?"

And then Lucy began talking and Nell swore this entire situation was a dream. As Lucy spoke to her tale of the Pevensies falling through a wardrobe from a land by the name of "England" it made Nell's heart race. It was as if an old dream—a memory, long ago, jogged into her mind that Nell could hardly remember. Just as she recalled stories of Narnia from when she was a child, she listened attentively as Lucy told her all about the first battle against the 'White Witch,' of the horrid state Narnia had been in during her rule, of Lucy's own dear friend Mr. Tumnus who was actually due with a visit quite soon. All of this Nell digested in the quickly darkening courtyard.

But Nell also had the sneaking suspicion that Lucy was leaving things out.

"But—you said Edmund didn't always trust Aslan," Nell said, noticing some gaps in Lucy's story.

Lucy nodded, clasping her hands together. "I think that is Edmund's story to tell you. I urge you to ask him about it the minute we are together again." Nell's heart lurched as she remembered the current predicament and the dull throbbing of pain came back.

"But why tell me all this, Lucy?" Nell asked, grateful and yet confused.

Lucy was quiet for a moment and appeared deep in thought. Then her eyes flicked to Nell and she looked more serious than Nell had ever seen her.

"Because I fear you know not the great love Aslan hold for _all _of us," Lucy said, her voice soft and nurturing to Nell as if a warm blanket had been thrown about her shoulders. "And that includes you, too, Nell. And I believe, I _truly _believe that Aslan has a plan for you, just as he has a plan for myself and my siblings. I just pray you realize how much you are worth."

Nell couldn't quite form words. She sat there, gaping quite dumbfounded at the youngest Pevensie, before Lucy gently pecked Nell on the cheek and then scurried off, muttering something about a council meeting.

Nell's eyes couldn't help but fill with tears as a lump gradually crept up her threat. What was it about these siblings that caused Nell's heart to completely melt every time she encountered one of them? And why did they make her, for the first time in all her life, actually feel as if she _was_ worth even just something tiny?

As the night curled around the courtyard and the breeze grew bitter still, Nell realized she was no longer cold at all but felt spreading warmth flowing through her veins.

* * *

The farther away they rode from Narnia, the quieter the atmosphere seemed to be. Peter pulled tightly onto his reins, absorbing the area around them. It was the eleventh day of their journey toward Bailetha, and it was as if the land itself smelled the doom that was circling above his army. The skies were swirling and gray, and it was painstakingly evident autumn was nearly moved in. There was a chill in the air, though Peter detected it had less to do with the weather and more to do with what was to shortly come.

"I smell dark magic, sire," Phillip (Edmund's talking steed and a best friend of the younger king) muttered out of the corner of his mouth, quiet enough that only Peter, Edmund and Oreius could hear.

"Well I don't feel too cozy, if that's what you mean," Edmund said in agreement, glancing over to Peter.

"Aye, perhaps it is best to set up camp for the night," the High King proposed. Edmund nodded silently in agreement, and Peter called the troops to a halt in a thunderous voice.

"Lads, this is where we shall set up camp," Peter called, loud enough for the entire army to hear the plan for the evening. There was a soft murmur and scurry while everyone dismounted their horses (in the case of soldiers) and began preparing camp.

Peter turned toward Edmund as he tied his horse's reins around a thick, old tree that looked slightly decrepit.

"We will send our messengers out to search the surrounding land," Peter explained to his brother and Oreius. "We have the best birds for the job. Oreius, alert them and tell them to carry this out immediately—I want an update by morning."

Oreius nodded, hurrying away to send the messengers along. Peter took a moment and looked at his men, his creatures— his army and was simply astounded. These precious lives; how soon were they to ebb away? There was calmness in the air that was hardly palpable, much like the quiet before the storm.

"I still don't understand why Threylin hasn't just declared war on us," came Edmund's voice from where he was unloading his satchel. "We have yet to find word from Threylin himself. We have word that they are preparing an army and are coming toward us…but wouldn't they even propose to us some sort of ultimatum?"

"If Threylin is as evil as he seems to be," Peter muttered, disdain entering his heart for such a man. "Then no. He would attack immediately. We've read our history books, Ed. Threylin's been a dictator for years but we've just been fortunate enough to steer away from him. Looks like times are changing."

Edmund snorted. "Well I'm itching to have a fight," he said roughly. "I want to get this over and done with."

Peter saw the gleam in Edmund's eye, the thirst for a good fight. But it was more than that—because the sooner they fought, the sooner (Aslan willing) they could return home. To Cair Paravel, to their sisters, to their friends, to everything they had grown to love in the years since they'd tumbled out of the wardrobe.

And also, Peter thought (his chest became oddly tight for some reason), the sooner he could return to a certain raven-haired girl he couldn't quite shake out of his mind.

When he really thought about it Peter decided he had _no _idea how he truly felt about Nell Crewe. For one, he hardly knew her. A few weeks thrown together out of an incredibly tense situation and dire circumstances did not necessarily equate to an ideal time for courting. And yet Peter could not deny that whenever Nell crept into his mind, mostly when he would wander in this thoughts while his troops trudged beside him, there was something warm that infested his brain. It was like a little light went off in his eyes with an arrow that pointed directly to her as if to say, "This is what you've been searching for all along."

War did always make a nice landscape for romance.

Peter's bitter voice ebbed back into his brain as he watched the men, creatures and soldiers around him set up camp. He did not have time to wonder what his status with Nell was. He needed to devote every ounce he had in him, every fiber in his body to his men, to his army, to protecting Narnia.

He thought of Aslan and where the great lion was at this very moment. Was he anywhere near Peter at all? Could he hear Peter's thumping heart with its erratic rhythm, crying out for some sense of security, some sense of knowledge? Peter tightened his jaw, the breeze playing with his hair. He felt Edmund move beside him and caught his brother's eye.

"You alright brother?" Edmund asked, his brown eyes boring deep into Peter's blue eyes.

Peter looked at Edmund feeling grateful for his presence despite all of their differences. Though Peter probably would never say it aloud, he _needed _Edmund and that was the truth of it. How lonely it would be without the younger man, and even though Peter often felt the two did not see _quite _eye to eye, their brotherhood was a bond that ran deeper than their blood.

Truly a blessing from Aslan.

Which reminded him…_Aslan, where are you?_ Peter thought softly.

"Pete?"

The question irked him back into reality and Peter almost let out a sigh but caught himself.

"Fine," he said firmly and when he saw the disbelief in Edmund's eyes he easily relented. He looked around, wanting to talk to his brother in private. "Follow me."

Peter led Edmund to his tent which was finished being set up by a few of the soldiers. Peter thanked them for their hasty work and quickly led his brother into the tiny form of privacy.

"What is it Pete?" Edmund asked, looking not nervous but apprehensive, as if he sensed the storm that was brewing around in Peter's mind.

"I'm beginning to worry Ed…it's been some time since Aslan has directly given me an answer and…I don't know," Peter finished lamely, suddenly feeling incredibly vulnerable and regretting the decision to show even his own brother any sense of timidity.

Peter expected Edmund to snort, to say "I told you so," and stalk out of the tent, ready to march all of the troops home. But instead Edmund sat down on the bed that was prepared for the High King and looked at his hands for several long moments.

"Pete, I know I was a right brute to you at the dinner with Larce and Nibora," Edmund began and Peter was surprised to her the raw vulnerability in his voice. "But I'm going to be honest here and say to you that you did the right thing. There is no doubt in my mind that Aslan is looking out for us."

Peter didn't say anything. He was too shocked at the relief that swept over him. Even after all these years of ruling over Narnia, it still surprised Peter how important it was to him what Edmund thought. He didn't think he'd ever really get over it. They were brothers, after all.

Edmund cleared his throat, scratching the back of his neck nervously. "Well don't bloody be all silent now, we both know how hard it is for me to apologize."

Peter grinned then, coming over and clapping a hand on his brother's back.

"I'm glad to hear it Ed. I can't help but trust Aslan, even when it feels like I'm in this season of…waiting."

He walked over to the flap of his tent, peering out at the dark swirling sky wishing so desperately that all of this could just be _over_. He felt Edmund come up beside him.

"Perhaps this season of waiting is where we just need to be," he said slowly. "Sometimes I think it's best if we look to Aslan just one day at a time. Otherwise I'm pretty sure we'd go mad."

Peter looked over to his brother, a teasing glint in his eye. "Since we did you become so bloody wise? Where is my eighteen year old git of a brother?"

Edmund laughed, although it did not quite reach his eyes. "He's still here…though I'm afraid these days it's much harder to think of anything lightly anymore."

Peter couldn't help but agree. He felt it in the air—it crept into his bones.

Battle was around the corner…and all they could do was…wait.

* * *


	10. A Doubtful Roar

**Oh blarney stone! I didn't realize when I replaced the author's note chapter it wouldn't allow anyonet to review. So I have no idea if anyone actually read chapter 9 or enjoyed it...**

**Anyways, now this chapter is shorter!! I'm sorry! I have SO much I want to happen, I'm really trying to move it along...I want the updates to be more frequent so they might be shorter. **

**Also, I am awful at writing action and adventure based tales. I am much more of a thoughts/musings writer...so I apologize if my story is weak in that department...I'm really trying! I figure the only way I get better is to actually practice, huh?**

**Please let me know what you think! I'm so sorry for the lack of Peter/Edmund in this chapter. Don't worry--next chapter shall be chock full! Also, we need to get Peter and Nell in the same atmosphere, don't you think? Still trying to work out logistically how that shall be done. Anyways, I really hope you enjoy this update and thank you for sticking with this story!!! I love you ALL!!!!!**

**Have a blessed night!!!  
**

-o-

Tomkin felt his throat in his stomach as his feet hit the cold ground one after the other in a repetitive rhythm that only fueled his anxiety and terror. How had he ended up here? When, in the course of his life, had his decisions lead him to this very moment, to the path that would no doubt lead to his early death?

Tomkin let his eyes drift over to the imposing man beside him. He didn't know his name but that didn't really bother Tomkin at all. In fact, if the pair never spoke one word to each other that would suit him just fine. The man was Tomkin's guard, one of King Threylin's men that had been assigned the task of escorting Tomkin on his death journey. That's what Tomkin had decided to call this entire thing; his death journey. If he ever lived to pen a memoir one day that would be the darling little title and if grandchildren ever sprouted from him they would he would read it to them by the firelight and it would be just the coziest little scene…

_Oi, shut up_, Tomkin told himself. Even his mind was getting on his nerves. It had been three days since he'd been tortured into oblivion and bloody _hell _was he sore. He'd never felt his limbs ache like they did in that moment—he did not even wish to imagine what he looked like. This morning when he and Imposing Guard on Death Journey (Igdeej for short, as he had gotten to calling this horrid man) had stopped at a stream for a drink of water Tomkin had expertly avoided his reflection. Judging by how badly his body hurt him he was positive he looked nothing short of a lanky, ginger monster.

"Erm," Tomkin muttered out, cursing himself when he realized he'd be engaging in verbal communication with this man. It was his goal along the route to not do so. But then he also was hurting terribly and if he didn't stop walking soon he was pretty sure he'd pass out from pain.

"Sir? How—how much farther?"

If there were anything in his stomach Tomkin was sure it would have come up right then. His heart was hammering wildly in his chest as he awaited the answer from the man beside him who was silently trudging forward. In the silence that only lasted about a second Tomkin had a chance to glance over at him. He wasn't really old—in fact, he was probably only ten or fifteen years Tomkin's senior, but the rough skin around his eyes and the harsh lines in his face gave him the appearance of being much older. There was a long scar extending from the corner of his left eye to the corner of his left mouth. He carried his sword out and forward, causing Tomkin to tremble just a little bit inside.

"Threylin's orders were for you to keep your mouth _closed_," the guard hissed out, his eyes never once straying from straight ahead. Tomkin swallowed thickly and felt his knees almost buckle beneath him.

They'd been traveling for two days straight. After Tomkin had somewhat recovered from the harsh beating he'd received Threylin had sent this man and himself quickly on their way…thus beginning, as Tomkin so dearly referred to, as his Death Journey. He had never experienced pain quite like this and he thought it a bloody miracle he'd managed to keep going with so little to eat each day and sleeping directly on the ground. He wondered for a moment if death was more appetizing a state than what he currently was in.

Honestly, if he thought about it, this was _not _the way he pictured himself going out. He figured it'd be when he was older, probably from some disease as morbid as that sounded. Tomkin was not one to think about death very often—he was a more day to day kind of fellow, but ultimately he just figured he'd catch some disease from the filth that he lived in and just…will, kind of go out. Nell always told him he had no imagination, but honestly, did he really want to _imagine _his own death?

This—this was loads worse. He was literally walking _to_ his death. As if it was an old relative or something he was going to meet for tea. Where had his life gone wrong? Well, he supposed it had gone wrong the minute he was born but that was beside the point…

He briefly wondered what his father would think. After all he _was _a servant supervisor…but really, would he do anything at all? Would he notice? It's not like they spent loads of time together.

No…no one would come looking for him because he was terribly alone. Well, except for this creepy old guard man but really he wasn't much company anyway…

Suddenly said creepy guard man came to a halt and Tomkin was thrown for a minute as he stumbled to a stop. He glanced over at the guard, who was squinting in northern direction. The gray skies above them swirled and made Tomkin's stomach church but the possibility of stopping for the night gave him hope enough to remain standing for the time being.

"We have arrived," came the gruff voice from the guard. Tomkin couldn't help but feel simultaneously relieved and terrified. He thought he was going to pass out but the promise of what stood before him—

No. There was no reason to be happy at this moment. He was in too deep and Tomkin realized at once he was drowning.

They had finally arrived at Narnia.

-o-

She was anxious and there was no getting around it.

Nell stood as still as she could, holding the deadly bow and arrow in her hand, desperately trying to hit her target. She could feel Susan's eyes boring into her back, silently willing Nell to finally, _finally _make a decent hit. To say she felt a bit of pressure would be quite the understatement. Nell wanted to make Susan proud—she wanted to impress the gentle queen but she was sure she would just let her down.

"Your stare is not helping," Nell said out of the corner of her mouth, biting her lip as she squinted her eyes.

She heard Susan let out a breath. "Sorry. I just—I have a feeling abut it this time, Nell. I think this is the one."

Nell didn't respond but instead silently wished Susan hadn't said that at all. It only made her all the more positive that she was going to miss, yet again, her target. The pair was in a field not far from the palace, spending the rare sun-filled October afternoon shooting against the wind. Nell had been feeling utterly useless these past few days and Susan, sensing her discomfort, had offered to give her archery lessons. While at first Nell felt a bit weary she had finally complied. She didn't think she could take another day hiding in the library or sitting in her room fretting over Peter and Edmund.

But Nell was _terrible. _There was absolutely no getting around it. She was curious to try her hand at sword—she'd seen Lucy sparring with a young centaur boy not too long ago and was itching to try her hand at the weapon. Even if she proved useless by _that _she'd force herself to learn something. She was not going to allow herself to merely waste each day while Peter and Edmund and thousands of others risked their _lives _for the safety of Narnia. She needed to learn to fight—the realization had landed on her not three days before. As she was sitting with Susan in a study, Susan gently helping Nell with her penmanship skills, it had dawned on Nell abruptly that it was essential she learned to fight.

She knew Susan and Lucy were brilliant warriors—she'd been in Narnia long enough to learn of their history. She knew that Threylin was ruthless and blood hungry and that not only were Bailethians cruel but as were their allies, Rewlians. She felt a sense of foreboding deep within her blood as the days crept on by—sooner or later, she felt she would have to fight. And she needed to be ready.

Which was why she was currently aiming her weapon directly at the target mere yards away. Nell stood in the silence, her the bottom of her grown whipping about her feet, her curls tied back with a piece of twine and for a moment she actually felt it, it was so close, yes this was the one, perhaps the bow was her friend after all—

"WORD! SUSAN! _NELL! _WORD!"

Bow and arrow came cluttering down to the ground as Nell jumped nearly a foot in the air, suppressing a shriek of surprise as she turned to see Lucy hurling herself toward them, her wind and gown whipping wildly in the wind. Nell took a deep breath as she felt her heart hammer wildly in her chest. Who knew such a loud voice could come from such a tiny human being?

"Lucy what on _earth?_" Susan asked incredulously and Nell thought for a moment she saw a bit of frustration in her eyes. Well, she couldn't blame her—Nell had been so very near to actually doing something right when it came archery.

Lucy finally stopped in front of the two women but didn't waste any time in catching her breath. She quickly brandished two scrolls in front of them, a smile so wide on her face Nell thought it was surely going to dance off.

"Word—we've…word…Peter…Edmund—"

"Goodness!" Susan exclaimed, cutting Lucy off and Nell was quite grateful for it. The young queen looked as if she would pass out had she not paused in her speech to gather her breath. Nell watched Susan take one of the scrolls and her heart rate sped up again. _Peter_, she thought and immediately a pair of brilliant blue eyes were swimming around her head and she could nearly hear his voice and it was all so very much.

She wished for the millionth time that day that this all were not happening, that he could be safe in Narnia with his family. Even if it meant that they never would have met. (Because, honestly, if it wasn't for this entire mess Nell would never know the kings and queens even existed…but perhaps that would have been better).

"Nell," Lucy said, drawing her attention as Lucy held out the second scroll to her. Nell knit her eyebrows in confusion. Spotting this Lucy tried to hide a mischievous grin but failed miserably.

"It's for you," Lucy said. Susan and her sister made eye content, both secretly grinning while Nell felt beyond elated. Actually, no, elated wasn't precisely the correct word. More shocked, relieved, embarrassed, nervous…so much turbulence was present within her. A human being simply shouldn't be able to feel this much at one time.

Lucy gently tucked it into Nell's hand. "Well go on—read it. I don't think I need to say who it's from."

"Thank you," Nell said in a soft voice. She realized she'd much rather be able to read the letter in the solitude of her bedroom but was too impatient to wait to read it. She glanced at Susan and Lucy. Both were quickly reading their own letter. Neither had screamed nor broken into sobs so Nell thought it was safe to feel a little more at ease as she sat down on the grass, tucking her feet behind her. She gently removed the wax sealing and held her breath as the scroll fell open. _Finally_, she thought.

_Dear Nell (Gnome Sprite Inhabitant of Narnia),_

_Only joking. I know you're glaring at the parchment after reading that. Almost glad I'm not with you to feel the scorch of it. (Alright, that's a blatant lie…it's much more fun teasing you when I can actually be present to see the fruits of my labor)._

_I hope I find you doing well...our troops are continually advancing forward to Bailetha and still await word from Threylin's troops. I cannot divulge too much information through this letter. There is always a danger of letters being intercepted but I do wish you and my sisters to know that our standing, as it is, is good. _

_Have you fallen even more in love with Narnia then? I would think Cair Paravel would be much more peaceful with the absence of myself, Edmund and our troops. I hope Susan and Lucy aren't bossing you around too much…(It'd be wise to not show them that part…only kidding, again)._

_I hope to hear back from you Nell. It doesn't quite feel like we've already been out here two weeks, has it? Take care…And oh alright, I'll say it, I miss you…a bit…there is no one for me to bug around here. Ed is too busy bugging _me. _Alright then—stay out of trouble, will you?_

_Thoughtfully yours,_

_Peter._

Nell smiled softly as she finished reading the friendly, albeit short, letter. It was beyond a relief to have heard from Peter but the guilt that stabbed at her pounding heart made threw her harshly back to reality. No! She would _not _allow herself to have any seedling of hope in regards to the High King's affections. The fact that she even entertained the _slightest _idea of Peter in anything close to a romantic fashion was beyond preposterous. For one—well, he was called the Magnificent! And she was just…Nell…servant girl runaway.

What a foolish girl she was. Didn't she know no man could ever truly love her, let alone the _High King of Narnia?_

Lucy's words suddenly flashed through her mind as the said queen called for Nell to follow Susan and herself back up to the palace for dinner.

"_I just pray you realize how much you are worth."_

Well didn't Lucy realize that Nell wasn't worth anything at all?

And then it happened. It was fleeting, only a moment, so sudden and quick that Nell almost swore she hadn't actually heard anything at all. It was a rumble—a deep, low growl that escalated into something so very close to the roar of a lion that it made Nell literally jump and shriek. She looked wildly about her, her eyes wide, her chest rising and falling with her rapid breathing. Immediately Susan and Lucy whirled on the spot just before they reached the courtyard, both alert. Susan had even begun to reach for her bow and arrow.

"What? Nell—are you alright? What is it?" Lucy asked frantically, watching Nell as she felt her heart almost shoot out of her chest.

Nell didn't say anything—she literally could not form words. She _swore _she heard a lion's roar…but it…it couldn't be…anything…could it?

_Aslan?_ Nell couldn't stop the thought from forming even if she wanted to. But the minute it formed it disappeared and left a hollow mocking noise in Nell's mind. Nell wasn't even sure Aslan existed—right? No…it must have been a figment of her imagination…

"I'm—I'm fine," Nell said shakily, closing her eyes briefly. "Just…hungry is all."

"We'll be eating shortly, are you sure you are alright?" Susan asked, her eyes pouring into Nell's and for a moment Nell almost said it—almost wondered aloud at the sound she had just heard. But it was a moment that passed and Nell just nodded.

"I'm sure."

She felt Lucy's eyes on her as they continued into the palace. The young queen was far too observant for her own good. "I was saying that while it is good news to hear from Peter," Lucy said. "It is still a bit unnerving to have had no word from Threylin. At _all_."

"Do…do you think he's planning something more than just a war on Narnia?" Nell asked, wondering if the Rewlyian men allied with Bailetha were scheming something horrible…something beyond comprehension. "Bailethan and Rewlyian troops would certainly be capable of horrors I don't want to even think about."

"It is possible," Susan agreed, leading the way to the long and lavish dining hall. Nell hated how quiet Narnia was these days…all that could be heard in the darkening day was the click of all three women's boots. It was most disconcerting.

"I just have a terrible feeling about this," Susan continued and Nell noticed her pace had picked up a bit. "Oh how I wish Peter would have allowed me to come along! I don't understand it—they _need _me! Threylin's troops are twice the size of ours. Why wouldn't he have let me come?"

There was silence as the three girls thought for a moment and then Nell felt dread spurn in the pit of her stomach—a dread and realization that she hated and wished had never seeped into her bones.

"Because he knew," Lucy said softly, her eyes frightened and glassy. They stopped walking in the corridor, looking at one another timidly and worriedly.

"Peter knows Narnia is up against something darker and more evil then we first expected," Lucy said and Nell couldn't help but shudder a little at the words. "He knows the chances of …death…are great. Even if you are a good warrior, Susan…it's…it's too risky."

Susan shook her head. "I _don't _care!" Nell had never heard Susan raise her voice like that and decided immediately she didn't like it. She could hear the pain and conflict in her voice and it tore through Nell's core. "I want to be with them, Lucy. I want to be with our brothers, I want to fight alongside them…even if I die doing so."

Just as Lucy opened her mouth to say something the large door along the corridor slammed open and one of Peter's councilmen came rushing in, looking flustered and confused.

"Your majesties!"

Susan immediately came forward, followed by Lucy and then Nell. "What is it?" she asked at once, concern beginning to etch across all of their faces.

"Come quick!" The councilman breathed, eyes practically on fire. "There is a runaway solider from Threylin's troops! He says he needs to speak to you all at once!"

"What?" All three girls gasped. Immediately Susan and Lucy took the reigns on the situation, running with speed lightening after the councilman, Nell hot on their heels. She couldn't believe this! A runaway soldier from Threylin's army? What was he doing in Narnia?

Nell finally rounded the corner after the queens and what she saw awaiting in the center of the grand hall made her practically faint from disblief.

There, in all his lanky and red-haired glory, stood Tomkin Awlyn.

-o-


End file.
